We sit on top of this blue tower,
And watch the fog talk to each other,
There's more traffic out here than on the 405,
But we're flying,
We're flying higher than the clouds tonight,

So I[x4]
So I, come and expect to return,
So I[x4]
So I, come and expect to return,

The second hand counts two for every second one,
While the music screams for a fistfight against my eardrums,
So the volume knobs,
There are no tap-outs tonight,

We'll lay our heads against the wall,
And wait until they begin to bruise,
Because the blackest nights could use some blue,
To paint the portrait perfect image that fills our eyes,

This was the first time that we're remembering the last time,
The most perfect things are anything, at least for tonight,
This was the first time that we're remembering the last time,
The most perfect things are anything, at least for tonight,
This was the first time that we're remembering the last time,
The most perfect things are anything, at least for tonight,

So do I[x8]