if you're awake
and you're looking up at the night blue
i hope you'll find the peace
i'm looking for too

im talking to thin air
hoping the winds catch my words
saying "i'll see you tomorrow"
when we both know that's not true

maybe one day
far from now
we'll wind up at the coffeeshop
down the street

we'll trade mundane stories
you'll show me a scar
you got from scraping
your hand on the cutting board

i'll tell you about
my accident
when my sister's fish
accidentally died of the cold

over the buzz of the grinder
the warmth of the cup
the bustle of the street outside
our fingers barely touching

one day soon
we'll make it through