It’s two past midnight and I sit in my orange place,
The tiniest that I call home,
I share a bathroom.
In this little town, it’s not my own
But that is the beauty in it
That I got to share it with you
Even if at times I didn’t even know.
I walked those streets all alone
And I still do
But now in a different way
Since now you are gone
For good
And I can let go
I have to let go
Finally(?)

This is going to be hard,
She turned to me and said, in the dark,
And now my hands smell like Christopher.

I can’t go home, and it hurts to stay,
I wake every day just to pretend and play
And now my hands smell like Christopher.

I feel trapped by some people who love me,
And those who I love, hurt me,
And now my hands smell like Christopher.

I feel ashamed, for I can’t cope with pressure
But how could I live, if I cannot stress her?
And now my hands smell like Christopher.

I hold onto things which I should let go of,
Memories, letters, pink palms and photos,
And now my hands smell like Christopher.

Sierra,
Your skies are blue,
Your waters are deep,
Your lies are true,
Your shallows are steep,

Late at night,
I wonder in your place,
In the crowds, you are a familiar face,
A glance at you, I hold my gaze,
You disappear, won't leave no trace,

Sierra,
I've long decided,
I'm making sure we are not divided,
To get a love I never gave,
I stay until your rainbows fade.

The Laughing Man,
I call you that,
A mix of orange, light brown led,

You don't like us,
You frighten me,
Alone, young, it's so lonely,

And as I watched you,
Beer in hand, big, smiley face,
I knew you were a severe case,

I might know your story,
Left behind,
I won't ever see you cry,

Then keep your distance,
Laughing Man,
Show them that you never care,

You are fine and life is cool,
But I won't ever be your fool,
I see past pretended grins,
Empty stares and uptight chins.

It used to be a Sunday,
Now it is a Monday,
The colors had changed too,
From orange to green,
The numbers from two to four,
Lost One on the go,
He fled as well,
Now twice the pain,
Soccer ball under the table,
No one there to play with it.

No arranged seats,
On old, gray sofas,
I won't hear your stories,
Your empty seats in every room,
All the things I can't ask you,
Thinking if you wonder too,
On lonely nights when it's so cold,
If she ever loved me too?
I think I was just there to listen,
Murdered by the wisest killer.

Your voice in my head,
Me doing nothing,
And waiting, always late,
When it came to timing,
It doesn't matter now,
As you'll be gone,
And you won't come back,
You don't even love me back,
And it's been too long,
For me to not move on.

But I'll keep the picture,
It's in my drawer,
My friends tell me I'm such a dreamer,
For thinking we'll be fine again,
But I know we'll never meet again,
So I get to hide my secret,
You were such a dear friend,
Your words so sweet,
When I felt so down,
I wish I could've called you mine.

Mountains, so dark,
I thought they were waves,
and I was drowning.