Sapphire Magic - Portugal. The Man

Back to the world,

The acrobat’s spinning around

With his head in the bay,

Stepping in close to that door,

Into the shore.

Shivers in pain,

His mind slipping back in to

Behind the view,

A place he made up through that door,

Into the door.

Back filling gold and colors that

Poured from his mouth dripping shame,

Found as he flowed through that door,

Into the door.

Comforts in time

That pull and push against the

Moon climbing games

That reach us to get through that door,

Into the door.

Back to the world,

The acrobat’s spinning around

With his head in the bay,

All the way back to that door,

It’s in the door.

It’s in the door.

Back to the world,

The acrobat’s spinning around

With his head in the bay,

All the way back to that door,

It’s in the door.

It’s in the door.

It’s in the door.

Back to the world,

The acrobat’s spinning around

With his head in the bay,

All the way back to that door.