notre dame//Paris Paloma (sub-español)

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I'm in the rafters looking down
It's cold up here
Between walls of stone
I made my home

And the air hangs heavy with the incense
Feathers fall from pigeons
Cooing in the tower

I rarely go down ther, the view's just so beautiful from here
And I can see everybody at their worst points
At their worst points

I'm not a sadist
I enjoy just being able to be witness of the loneliness and fear
I abhor in case there isn't one
In case there isn't one

I'm not a higher power
I just live in the ceiling 'cause I'm lonely on the fringes
And it gives my life some meaning in the exile
In my exile

The grey light filters through slabs
And the flagstones glow
Bright from the stained-glass
A hundred feet below

As I tiptoe creaking over prayers
Pleading with their maker
Crying with the choir

I'm not immune to the sincerity below me
Makes me feel, it makes me holy
But the tears I understand that I do not below
No I do not belong

Watching the figures, all the saints
But mostly sinners come and go
And some are desperate
But the others have the sense that they do belong
And I do not belong

Some only talk towards the heavens
When the end is feeling desperate
Have the overwhelming feeling
That there's nobody who's looking down
At least I'm looking down