Something in my fingertips tells me it's time. Mid September brings a breeze, a wet and wild extract. It's the printing of your pupil inside mine, You carved signs upon my grid sixteen long years back. Oh! I travel in time Like a skin made calendar Telling me when, where and how A few years back. I can tell it's time Like an instinct almanac Brings old senses back to life. All of the moments that we had are a standing watermark, Brightens up my eyes with a fluorescent spark, Makes my vision quick and sharp like an owl in the dark, But dismantles my soul into many parts. When a soul is scattered into space You are left with marks upon your face And the chance to sprinkle love out in every direction. You made up a special word that could describe The extraordinary thrill of that stunning blast. It's engraved beneath the dermis of the thighs With a permanent technique that remais intact. All of the moments that we had are a standing watermark, Brightens up my eyes with a fluorescent spark, Makes my vision quick and sharp like an owl in the dark, But dismantles my soul into many parts. When a soul is scattered into space You are left with marks upon your face And the chance to sprinkle love out in every direction. When a soul is scattered into space You are left with marks upon your face And the chance to sprinkle love out in every direction.