a starlit night a darkened door desire that is only as old as a four day week and pressed against the golden grain they're not feeling lonely and not feeling moved to speak
the unmade bed could clear their heads of rattles and tone the sweetest kiss this latest one goes straight to the bone
they likely know whatever comes, it comes and it goes but it's better than sleeping alone
another sun a smoking gun and hands that are slowly making the rounds on a scar the nervous laugh and undertones of two who are only remembering where they are will it stick or be unstuck by battles and voices old conclusions often fall for too many choices
they likely know whatever comes, it comes and it goes but it's better than sleeping alone