Bare feet on warm wood (wersja 2)

Verse

Candlelight on your collarbone, the room goes still

Four A.M. in an empty house, nobody's been here before this

Your feet kick off your shoes and we just sit there for a minute without moving

Watching dust come out of the windows when the curtains finally start to breathe

You're leaning into me soft as a question and I don't know how long this lasts

But every moment feels like forever when your skin turns amber in this half-light

Pre-Chorus

Can we hold onto something that doesn't even have a name yet?

Is it love or is it just this, whatever it is, let's call it gold

I'm not looking for a way out of here.

I think I might be getting lost in you instead

Chorus

We're burning down to the skin and there's no need to rush

Bare feet on warm wood where the sun hasn't reached yet

Your eyes are turning golden, your fingers on my wrist

This is the slowest kind of burn that I've ever been with

Verse 2

The clock on the mantle says it's almost dawn but I don't believe it

Every window in this house looks out onto a different sky

You're tracing patterns in my collarbone like you're trying to read a map

And every inch of your touch is turning into something real

I've been running for so long, I thought that was the only pace

But now I'm standing still and nothing else seems right unless it's this one place

Your hair catches fire when the sunlight comes up slow

So let's just stay here on the couch where we're not in time anymore

Pre-Chorus

Can we hold onto something that doesn't even have a name yet?

Is it love or is it just this, whatever it is, let's call it gold

I'm not looking for a way out of here.

I think I might be getting lost in you instead

Chorus

We're burning down to the skin and there's no need to rush

Bare feet on warm wood where the sun hasn't reached yet

Your eyes are turning golden, your fingers on my wrist

This is the slowest kind of burn that I've ever been with

Bridge

I don't know if we'll make it through the day without falling apart

But I'm not running for the door like I used to be before this started

Maybe this is what they mean by 'slow burn' - a fire so small it takes forever to break free

But when it finally does, I want it all to be because of you and me

Chorus

We're burning down to the skin and there's no need to rush

Bare feet on warm wood where the sun hasn't reached yet

Your eyes are turning golden, your fingers on my wrist

This is the slowest kind of burn that I've ever been with