This is a song about "Air"

Baby, just come close, let me play in your hair

Got our middle fingers in the air,

Cause my mother let me do what i want

Until all the air bubbles have popped.

Your a kid posing like willow in bel air,

And got her room number, you can find me there

Believing the screens or anything there

Everyday we live and breathe the air

Three town homes in delaware

I'm running out of air

The way they hit her i just stop and stare

Then why the fuck am i yellin at air

She's got me love stoned from everywhere

Spinning like my many rims through the air,

And them which is more of a circus than a fair

On the lines of a wire right in the nice air