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