Breathe - Indica

Hold on now, we’re almost there

On the go, I lost your breath

I turned around and you were gone, night heard your sound

On the road, you turned to air

I could feel my bed in Hell

I heard your cry in my own voice, I tried to find your face in mine

I held your touch in my form, I held on

I turned around, and I was gone

Why turn around when time moves on?

Why wait to see what we saw?

We turn to salt