Tekster: Tori Amos. Other. Here. In My Head.

In my head, I found you there,
And running around, and following me,
But, you don't... dare,
But, I find that I have, now, more than I ever wanted to.

So maybe Thomas Jefferson wasn't born in your backyard, like you have said and,
Maybe I'm just the horizon you run to when she has left you.
There you are, here, in my head and,
Running around, an' calling me, "Come back-
"I'll show you the roses that brush off the snow and,
Open their petals again and again."
An' you know that apple-green ice cream can melt in your hands, I can't,
So when I, I... held your hand at the fair, and even forgot what time it was.


And even Thomas Jefferson wasn't born in your backyard, like you have said, and,
Maybe I'm just the horizon you run to when she has left,
You and me, here alone on the floor.
You're counting my feathers as the bells toll.
You see, the bow and the belt, and the girl from the south,
All favorites of mine, you know them all well.
And Spring brings fresh little puddles,
That makes it all clear, makes it all clear...


Do you know, uh, hey, do you know, mmm... what this is doin' to me?
Ah, here, here, here, here in my head.