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At the Artist's Leisure, Pt. 2
The Jazz June
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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 drips of cold vanilla Rolling softly down her lungs 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 to sleep at night Yeah you lay there with your eyes Peeled and wide at the ceiling You don't go to sleep at night Yeah you lay there with your eyes Peeled and wide at the ceiling You don't go to sleep 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 beneath the scene and makes a path all his own At a glance it might seem ordinary without the colors Without the colors in her eyes It's enough to 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 You don't go to sleep at night Yeah you lay there with your eyes Peeled and wide at the ceiling You don't go to sleep at night Yeah you lay there with your eyes Peeled and wide at the ceiling
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