We would say
"Never, my love."
The song
Is slow and short.
You find it pressed into wax
And leave it where I remain.
Do you know that I
Never grew tired of you?
Brown velour vintage,
Silk under piles of waste.
You wear my affection still,
And I pretend to wish I wasn't so generous.
The song is short
And simple enough.
Three credits left to graduate,
Hours still to drive,
I will never regret what I gave.
We would say
"Never, my love,"
Could we call each other strangers.
Do you know that I never
Grew tired of you?
Feb 3, 2025
Feb 3, 2025 at 4:38 PM UTC
We would say
"Never, my love."
The song
Is slow and short.
You find it pressed into wax
And leave it where I remain.
Do you know that I
Never grew tired of you?
Brown velour vintage,
Silk under piles of waste.
You wear my affection still,
And I pretend to wish I wasn't so generous.
The song is short
And simple enough.
Three credits left to graduate,
Hours still to drive,
I will never regret what I gave.
We would say
"Never, my love,"
Could we call each other strangers.
Do you know that I never
Grew tired of you?
