More songs by Steve French
Description
Producer: Steve French
Lyrics and translation
Original
The light bends in a different way.
Something carries my weight.
I went in under the waves, now they just pass me by.
When I'm floating on my back, I hear the children scream.
And I wish I sank like a stone to rest in the deep.
Purple trunks, hot machines, taste of sand, wide ice cream.
When I'm coming up for air,
I know I'll have to leave.
But I forget you, I forget you in my weakening grief.
It's cool, we are talking again, and I can hardly wait to slip into the same old. . .
It's cool, we are talking again, and I can hardly wait to slip into the same old. . .
It's cool, we are talking again, and I can hardly wait to slip into the same old. . .
It's cool, we are talking again, and I can hardly wait to slip into the same old. . .
Purple trunks, hot machines, taste of sand, wide ice cream.
Empty shells, fair white skin, pretty day, dirty beach.