My mother's child is a savage, she looks for her omens in the colors of stones, in the faces of cats, in the falling of feathers, in the dancing of fire, in the curve of old bones

We could stay like this forever, lost in wonderland, with our head above the clouds, falling stupid like we're kids. Wearing rose-colored lenses, let's just play pretend. Wearing rose-colored lenses, pretend we'll never end.