It's crippling never really knowing 
They're huddling where it's always nice

And plus there is a flame of frail and trippy hearts
And swallowed, being small and being still 
Following where ever you will

Look at them, they're sensitive 
And they inch out, look at them

And plus there is a flame of frail and trippy hearts
And swallowed, being small and being still 
Following where ever you will