Take your time 'cause I no longer want it here,
No, it’s not where I am.
Spinning into te fields of potentiality,
Though it’s not where you are.
It’s not who I am,
Privatize your alarm 'cause you don’t want a morning.
It’s not who you are.
They’re in your ups,
Between your downs,
Behind your charm,
And anywhere.
Strangers give you every day.
They’re soaked in truth,
When beauty bends.
These are the salts
Of innocence,
Oh, they’ll mend your everyday.