Hors D'œuvre (Instrumental) Songtext - MADE IN HEIGHTS

Hors D'œuvre (Instrumental) - MADE IN HEIGHTS

Placing your lips and shoulders on the carpet
Post-december hors d'oeuvres in cold apartments
Once we comb our feathers and cure your longing
We sleep as winter pigeons on pavement falling
Grinning in clothes and timbers as I departed
Holding your hands and fingers as if applauding
Hunting the moon, hung so low we might've caught it
Placing your lucky clovers on the carpet

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