Octave Lover

Now that I have your attention
Would you say you're a spirit or ghost
1700s must have been awful
No I loved the still of the night
But I breeze past the fires in the sky
As the war ships encountered themselves
Borrowing your sense of humor
I travel by horse through the fog
Because no one ever hears me
I'll grant you eternal youth
I'll take your hand and fly off this cliff
But I fall while you float away
No one will ever believe me now
I can feel you as you pass through my soul



Credits
Writer(s): Matthew Bartlett
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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