I ride the seven through four
I breathe the smoke that makes my lungs sore
I take the box to sixteen
I see the glass on the Zeil gleam
I jump the Straẞe both ways
I hug the crowd to skirt a cop's gaze
I hear the planes on the air
I see the yellow splash the wall, there
At first my fingers make the colours run
I break the blocks, and watch the world scroll
Flutter on the goal pole
Then pick a flower for a power, now
So I can charge at all the troopas
Fire all the bloopers
There should be magic in the air, here
But my hands begin to hollow
Cramping as the inks slow
A semicolon, and I vilify
I rush a line for an oblique trail
But to no avail
Turn left, then
Turn right, then
Should I have
Turned into?
Turn right, then
Turn left, then
Should I have
Turned back then?
I saw you
I saw you
I saw you
For the first time
I saw you
I saw you
I saw you
And the next time