She has a way of sitting in cold puddles   a reach away from hanging on   A breeze between the cracks   And she takes a nice warm sip   The frosty drios of cold vanilla   rolling softly down her lungs   The wind slips beneath the reaches of the bold and the blinding days   The wind that knocks you off your feet   You don't go asleep at night   Yeah you lay there with your eyes peeled and wide at the ceiling   Opening her eyes to the old main in Florence   He walks between the scene and makes a path all his own   At a glance it might seem ordinary without the colors   But the man holds a moment filled and floating in her eyes   It's enoughto see the canvas between the border   to ease the embers in the eyes   You don't go to sleep at night   Yeah you lay there with your eyes peeled and wide at the ceiling