Rolling up paper, burning it down to my lips Spacing out faces was never my kind of fix I buried my head in my phone, so I wasn't left on my own And it worked for a minute But time slipped away, and you quietly paid me a visit You held out your hand Made me the man I wished I could be Now I, I'm high on you And I, I'm high on you On you Lately, I walk through the streets of the busiest places And look where I walk, where I used to look down at my laces You held out your hand Made me the man I wished I could be Now I, I'm high on you I, I'm high on you Rolling up paper, burning it down to my lips Spacing out faces will never be my kind of fix