Indigo

I can't stop thinking about how nice it would be
To be bothered by your breath reclaiming mine

To wake up in the morning half dead to you
Unable to find a place to rest your arms

I can't move 'cos he's comfortable there
His legs tangled in mine
Hands tangled in hair

I can't move 'cos he's comfortable there

I can't stop thinking about how nice it would be
To be bothered by your breath reclaiming mine

To wake up in the morning half dead to you
Unable to find a place to rest your arms

I can't move 'cos he's comfortable there
His legs tangled in mine
Hands tangled in hair

I can't move 'cos he's comfortable there

I can't move 'cos he's comfortable there
His legs tangled in mine
Hands tangled in hair