She may be young but she only likes old things,
And modern music it ain't to her taste,
She loves the natural light,

Captured in black and white.

She sees mirages of mountain ranges,

Within the blink of her eyes it changes,
Back to the open plain,
Oh no she can't explain.


I cry out "Love keep your arms around me,"
I am a bird that's in need of grounding,

I'm built to fly away,
I never learned to stay.


The night is going to fall and the vultures will surround you,
And when you're looking in the mirror what you see is going to astound you,
But all these lines and greys refined,

They are the maps of our design,
of what began on a monday morning.


Monday morning.
Monday morning.
Oh, Oh.

Monday morning.
Monday morning.
Oh, Oh.


The night is going to fall and the vultures will surround you,
And when you're looking in the mirror what you see is going to astound you,

But all these lines and greys refined,
They are the maps of our design,
of what began on a monday morning.


Oh yes the night is going to fall and the vultures will surround you,
And when you're looking in the mirror what you see is going to astound you,

and while the glow of youth in time eludes,
Is burning on inside of you,
It all began on a monday morning.


Monday morning.
Monday morning.

Oh, Oh.