8pm sunsets man who could’ve imagine Seeing us in each other’s arm could be so magic One ****** and we moving backwards Lately your texts are getting cold, Like ice cubes in this summer cooling away from our fire energy, the when time is emites Repeated arguments got our feeling so redundant. Hoping to see better days, hoping we see a better vayca. Live yours and I’ll live mines, but we pendulums our time will come back at the terminal when I arrive.