Brisa Roche High
Your skin in the smoke of the wood, dinner hour
Makes me high under the violet sky-tower
Look all around us, the cut plants regrow
Leaning like me to get close to your glow
Even in the city there's a rhythm
And it's by this beat that we are driven
One, two, three, four, I still want more
When my planet turns on, I will triple in size
As a gesture explaining my love for your eyes
Little star-beats that wander and hide in the air
Tumble drunk just like me in the scent of your hair
Even in the city there's a rhythm
And it's by this beat that we are driven
One, two, three, four, I still want more
The feathers that I found might have been yours or mine
Invisibly silver on dry grass and vine
And the sweater and Tee-shirt I found at the shore
Are still soaked with the salt from our dancing before
Even in the city there's a rhythm
And it's by this beat that we are driven
One, two, three, four, I still want more
Seven, eight, nine, give me more time
