Meet me at midnight. Staring at the ceiling with you oh, you don't ever say too much. And you don't really read into my melancholia. I been under scrutiny, you handle it beautifully, all this shit is new to me. I feel the lavender haze creeping up on me, surreal, I'm damned if I do give a damn what people say. No deal, the 1950 shit they want from me. I just wanna stay in that lavender haze.