House of Balloons / Glass Table Girls
by The Weeknd

Been on another level since you came, no more pain
You look into my eyes, you can't recognize my face
You're in my world now, you can stay, you can stay
But you belong to me, you belong to me

If it hurts to breathe, open the window
Oh, your mind wants to leave but you can't go
This is a happy house, we're happy here
In a happy house, oh this is fun

Music got you lost
Nights pass so much quicker than the days did
Same clothes, you ain't ready for your day shift
This place will burn you up
But baby it's okay, them my niggas next door
And they working in the trap, so get naughty if you want
So don't blame it on me that you didn't call your home
So don't blame it on me, girl, 'cause you wanted to have fun

If it hurts to breathe, open the window
Oh, your mind wants to leave but you can't go
This is a happy house, we're happy here
In a happy house, oh this is fun

Bring the 707 out
Bring the 707 out
Bring the 707 out
Bring the 707 out
Bring the 707 out
Bring the 7

Two puffs for the lady who be down for that
Whatever, together
Bring your own stash of the greatest, trade it
Roll a dub, burn a dub, cough a dub, taste it
Then watch us chase it
With a handful of pills, no chasers
Jaw clenching on some super-sized papers
And she bad and her head bad
Escaping, her van is a Wonderland
And it's half-past six
Read skies 'cause time don't exist
But when the stars shine back to the crib
Superstar lines back at the crib
And we can test out the tables
Got some brand new tables
All glass and it's four feet wide
But it's a must to get us ten feet high
She give me sex in a handbag
I get her wetter than a wet nap
And no closed doors
So I listen to her moans echo
"I heard he do drugs now"
You heard wrong, I been on it for a minute
We just never act a fool
That's just how we fuckin' live it
And when we act a fool
It's probably 'cause we mixed it
Yeah I'm always on that okey dokey
Them white boys know the deal
Ain't no fuckin' phony
Big O know the deal
He the one who showed me
Watch me ride this fucking beat
Like he fuckin' told me
"Is that your girl, what's her fucking story?"
"She kinda bad but she ride it like a fucking pony"
I cut down on her man, be her fuckin' story
Yeah I'm talking 'bout you man, get to know me
Ain't no offense, though, I promise you
If you a real man, dude, you gon' decide the truth
But I'm a nice dude with some nice dreams
And we could turn this to a nightmare: Elm Street

La la la la la la la la
I'm so gone, so gone
Bring out the glass tables
Bring the 707 out
La la la la la la la la
I'm so gone, so gone
Bring out the glass tables
Bring the 707 out
La la la la la la la la
I'm so gone, so gone
Bring out the glass tables
Bring the 707 out
La la la la la la la la
I'm so gone, so gone
Bring out the glass tables
Bring the 707 out
Bring the 707 out
Bring the 707 out

Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, DOMINO PUBLISHING COMPANY
Written by: Abel Tesfaye, Carlo Montagnese, Steven John Severin, Susan Janet Ballion, Martin McKinney

Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind

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