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Letâs stay in and drink wine, and weâll critique whatever movie weâre watching. Let the light flood in from the streets, the foreign orange eats up half the floor inside. But itâs still dark. And weâre close. But Iâve got evergreens in my heart. And I donât choose where they grow, but itâs still my fault I suppose. Then it breaks; our gaze shifts and separates. I could barely see your face anyway. From the couch, on our feet, to the kitchen, to the door frame, itâs like my dreadful dreams that oscillate. Repeat and repeat but we donât escape. Canât you feel the rhythm in the waves? Thereâs a pattern that we trace. This pattern we create. This city can be pretty but only when the lights double. When downtownâs dead and the streets are wet from a melted midnight snowfall. And step by step, this route again, on my cold walk home, I distract myself with my favourite pseudo retro rock and roll. And I realize that I m completely alone.
- Album:
- 12/12