Ode To You (THE SICK WORLD OF YONA)

You be the breeze
And I will be the wind
Up on the hill everything is burning
You be the guise
And I will be inside

Oh,
I feel you slipping from my hands
Oh,
I feel you slipping from my hands

You are so skilled
At making my head turn
You're slight of hand
But everything is real
But in my heart it can be so cold
A whitened field

Oh,
I feel you slipping from my hands
Oh,
I feel you slipping from my hands