The morning sun is a soft reminder The graceful arc of a kind word The curvature of your naked body The songs you make at night The crooked throat of an old survivor The pain we feel when we feel free The weekend lost on a pointless labour Talking in your sleep Ooh, and the shapes you're making Ooh, and you are sleepwalking Ooh, and you are vibrating I listen what you're saying (I hate this place, it smells of men and death) Everything is up in the air like a bird without a home Everything is all in your mind if you see things that way Everything is harder to do if it's either wrong or right The songs you make at night Nothing is a thing you can do if you hold onto yourself Nowhere is a place in the world where no-one knows you Nothing is a thing you can be if you hold your failures tight The moves you make at night Ooh, and the shapes you're making Ooh, and you are sleepwalking Ooh, and you are vibrating I listen what you're saying The morning sun is a soft reminder The graceful arc of a kind word The curvature of your naked body The songs you make at night Ooh, and the shapes you're making Ooh, and you are sleepwalking Ooh, and you are vibrating I listen what you're saying Ooh, and the shapes you're making Ooh, and you are sleepwalking Ooh, and you are vibrating I listen what you're saying Ooh, and the shapes you're making Ooh, and you are sleepwalking Ooh, and you are vibrating Ooh, and you are vibrating Ooh, and you are vibrating