All my stories end the same
With snow in summer
I am sun-kissed wearing black
In the passenger seat
Cigarette in hand
Feeling down
Next to the best person I know
But he's far away, I don't care
And the sky couldn't be more white
The take-out coffee isn't as good as it should be
Hands are damp but we never let go
We get to the city at last
Let it swallow us
Blend into the crowds, we're simplified
Hiding behind the a-la-carte menu

In the hotel the dark silence grew  
We leave the sheets stained with a bit of me and you
And go home to pretend we want someone new