Letras:Counting Crows. Saturday Nights and Sunday Mornings. When I Dream Of Michelangelo.
You know I don't like you but you wanna be my friend
There are bodies on the ceiling and they're fluttering their wings
It's okay, I'm angry but you'll never understand
When you dream of Michelangelo they hang above your hands
And I know she is not my friend
And I know 'cause there she goes
Walking on my skin again
And I can't see why you wanna talk to me
When your vision of America is crystal and clean
I wanna white bread life just something ignorant and plain
But from the walls of Michelangelo I'm dangling again
And I know she is not my friend
And I know 'cause there she goes
Walking on my skin again and again
Saturn on a line, the sun afire of strings and wires
Spin above my head and make it right
Anytime you'd like you can catch a sight
Of angel eyes on emptiness and infinite
And I dream of Michelangelo when I'm lying in my bed
I see God upon the ceiling, I see angels overhead
And he seems so close as he reaches out his hand
We are never quite as close as we are led to understand
And I know she is not my friend
And I know 'cause there she goes
Walking, walking, walking
And I know she is not my friend
And I know 'cause there she goes
Walking on my skin again and again
On my mind, oh, Lord, no
Yes, she's walking on my skin again and again
There are bodies on the ceiling and they're fluttering their wings
It's okay, I'm angry but you'll never understand
When you dream of Michelangelo they hang above your hands
And I know she is not my friend
And I know 'cause there she goes
Walking on my skin again
And I can't see why you wanna talk to me
When your vision of America is crystal and clean
I wanna white bread life just something ignorant and plain
But from the walls of Michelangelo I'm dangling again
And I know she is not my friend
And I know 'cause there she goes
Walking on my skin again and again
Saturn on a line, the sun afire of strings and wires
Spin above my head and make it right
Anytime you'd like you can catch a sight
Of angel eyes on emptiness and infinite
And I dream of Michelangelo when I'm lying in my bed
I see God upon the ceiling, I see angels overhead
And he seems so close as he reaches out his hand
We are never quite as close as we are led to understand
And I know she is not my friend
And I know 'cause there she goes
Walking, walking, walking
And I know she is not my friend
And I know 'cause there she goes
Walking on my skin again and again
On my mind, oh, Lord, no
Yes, she's walking on my skin again and again
Counting Crows
Counting Crows
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