S.O.S.

I'm calling S.O.S.
I'm feeling kind of blessed
I've got my windows down in my cabrio seat
I feel the wind on my chest
My heart is burning fast
For the love that you show like you've never before
I'm still your secret though

It makes sense with no capacity
To blurt it out like it's nothing to you
Nothing to you, nothing, nothing to you
It makes sense self-proclaimed prophecy
Is stopping you from taking it into your hands
Take it into, take it, take it into your hands

I've found my way through
You're on searching mode
I'm confronted by the same old story, 'been on that road
Oh the days go by, it's still you and I
But I can't help feeling, I can't help feeling like I a lie

It makes sense with no capacity
To blurt it out like it's nothing to you
Nothing to you, nothing, nothing to you
It makes sense self-proclaimed prophecy
Is stopping you from taking it into your hands
Take it into, take it, take it into your hands

Take it into your hands, take it into your hands
Take it into your hands, into your hands
Take it into your hands, take it into your hands
Take it into your hands, into your hands
Take it into your hands, take it into your hands
Take it into your hands, into your hands
Take it into your hands, take it into your hands
Take it into your hands

I'm calling S.O.S.
I'm feeling kind of blessed
I've got my windows down in my cabrio seat
I feel the wind on my chest
My heart is burning fast
For the love that you show like you've never before
I'm still your secret though



Credits
Writer(s): Chiara Fanuli
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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