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• Artiste: Ingrid Michaelson
• Titre: Glass
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Rolled around on kitchen floors. Tied my tongue in pretty bows with yours. And now we pass and just like glass I see through you, you see through me like I'm not there. You could make my head swerve. Used to know my every curve. And now we meet on a street, And I am blind. I can not find the heart I gave to you. Sometimes what we think we really want we don't. Sometimes what we think we want we really don't. Sometimes what we think we love we don't. And I am blind. I can not find the heart I gave to you. And when we meet on a street, Then I am blind. I can not find the heart I gave to you.