Hiss

Native silence waits in the breeze And remains of sound Drifting from the plant In your window so still Casting a spell over me Calling with glasses Blue streak all over the place Outrun the devil himself Before you feel the end of all things Make up a dream and lift off Native silence waits in the breeze And remains of sound Drifting from a the plant In your window so still Casting a spell over me Calling with glasses Blue streak all over the place Outrun the dеvil himself Before you feel thе end of all things Make up a dream and lift off