Squeaky mattresses and foggy mirrors,
a bedroom ***** with memories and cloudy air,
broken cigars,
a familiar smell
an unfamiliar face that presents an unfamiliar feeling
has been the result of time passing.
And even though a computer is plastered to your arm
when I watch you hide for hours within old tunes that trigger dormant visions of the past,
i can see, i can feel,
that when you are silent or even talking there's pain.
So I fall into your feelings as we smoke the time away.
But in the midst of that i realized that we were high and not asking for much
see, inside I know that I could never be enough
but we are ultimately alike in more ways than one
ways beyond sounds and poetry
ways beyond the sky and the sea, in a way that is beyond an explanation.
and even though after these epiphanies it feels great to **** you...
it still feels greater to fiercely love you
and behind blind eyes to ignorantly think of how to make it all better...
my time and my love were the most legit answers.