Tekster: The Promise Ring. Between Pacific Coasts.

Down the lane, I breathe out loud in half frozen air
And the black amnesias in heaven are lighting a half moon on the stairs
Down the lane and I bite my lip when I breathe out loud
Wrapped in Japanese paper all the way around

And California can't see the sun rise
Smoke doesn't climb like it lingers
And California can't see the sun rise
Smoke doesn't climb like it lingers
And California

Runs long on a broken, broken lung
Runs long

I breathe out loud in half frozen air
I bite my lip when I breathe out loud
I bite my lip when I breathe out loud, loud, loud, loud, loud