Sky touching down along Myrtle
Looks like God painted a canvas
And either screwed it up real bad
Or got a call and left it
Now I'm standing witness to
Either a mess or a masterpiece
If I could trust my instinct just a little
The answer'd be easy
Seven AM, racing down Lafayette
Trying to stay clear of the city sanitation trucks
An early morning breeze cutting
Through this mop of hair
No red light could stop this pounding heart
Or take away the last touch from you half-naked
Lying there as I was putting on these shoes
And all the right mistakes brought me to you
And all the right mistakes brought me to you
Nothing I do
Nowhere I go
Is lost on me
Better not be lost on you