Some days are all Mondays
Sort of time on ice
It seems like
Jet planes
On snowed in runways
Under clear blue skies
Who needs it
Nothing is real but the girl
Nothing is real but her
Money goes to money
In a figure eight
Around me
Money
Who's gonna love me
If I liquidate
And drown me
Nothing is real but the girl
Nothing else feels solid
We believe in love
We believe in little things
Like Heaven up above
And Seven
It's a lucky number
We believe that something lives
Inside everything there is
Don't think about it much
I mean it
I believe it
I believe it
Wind down
Put your mind down
Like your missing school
You'll teach her to
Find out
While you're dying in your living room
How much you need her
Nothing is real but the girl
Only her eyes are solid
Nothing is real but her
Nothing is real but the girl
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