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Indian Burn
It came to me a long, long time ago.
You see, we were both 15 on that blacktop burning our feet.
Hanging out on that same old street. You were an extension of me,
And I to you, but you always did you.
It's just the way we communicate feels right and that's all we'll ever have.
It feels right.
It's just the way that you call my name at night.
It's just the way that you hold my hand too tight.
It's like an Indian burn, so red, so ripe.
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I guess you're the constant and I'm the trip,
Always getting myself into some weird kind of shit.
And I believe, I believe, I believe what you said but you never really ever put that faith in my head.
It's just the way that you call my name at night.
It's just the way that you hold my hand too tight.
It's like an Indian burn, so red, so ripe.
It's just the way that you call my name at night.
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