Intro

Oh,
I'll follow you 'round again,
'till there's nothing but light,
And the figures arrest you 'til you feel nothing,
Anymore.

To these beggars in my shallow hole,
You'll be floating shrivelled prunes but nothing more.
I'd never look you in the eye while I'm blind,
I'll sleep right through the winter 'til the wind begins to turn,
You'd better turn my luck around,
And save me forever more.

You're the wind beneath my arms,
The wind beneath my arms,
You're the wind beneath my arms.