notre dame//Paris Paloma (sub-español)

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