Deepline - Still Turning

Heat.
Hey, Heat
High above the your hand finds mine
The turning wheel slows to a crow
You trace a circle
On my open palm
As if there's nothing
Underneath it all
Below us.
Someone folds the striped umbrellas
The painted horses lose their
And singing] glow
You tilt your head
Until our temples touch
And let the whole town
Carry on below.
Heat.
Heat.
N
An engine shutters as the wheel starts moving
A silver and singing] earring
Brushes at your neck
The city rises slowly back to meet us.
You hold my hand
Through every and music
Little shake
Beyond the gates
The last ride keeps on turning