At the Artist's Leisure, Pt. 2 - The Jazz June

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

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 asleep 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 between the scene and makes a path all his own

At a glance it might seem ordinary without the colors

But the man holds a moment filled and floating 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