The Glass کے بول

Let me lie here Let me play Let me run around I've been waiting All of my life Just to grow down Throw my head back Think of nothing Watch the day go through a day I am restless And reaching Horses to the hay My fingertips are black From making up rhymes My fingertips are black From making up rhymes One, two, three, four Dress me up nice Brush my hair Turn me into a dream Put all the lights on Turn every mirror I have to be seen And the night grows tired without you Lift me to the glass I'll wait till you come back Lift me to the glass I'll wait till you come back Lift me to the glass I'll wait till you come back