With a pair of sunset lungs    
  
Where do I taste the wind behind you    
  
In hopes that you will stare right trough me    
I can hear you crying for that halo    
That isn't even yours for you to lose    
And you tell me that your bound to your circle    
  
  
And hopefully you'll have their approval    
Inside the imitation that I loath    
With the callow hands and the bad knees    
All suckers for the taste of illusion    
  
  
In hopes that you will stare right trough me    
I can hear you crying for that halo    
That isn't even yours for you to lose    
And you tell me that your bound to your circle