We make music when we walk
Shoes laced with guitar strings
Hearts beating to the metronome in my head
When you speak violin comes out
The flowers embedded in your heart are dying
The light in your eyes have burned out
The optimism has drifted from your voice
And left you with hollow bones
The music we played went flat
The waves stopped coming
The sun stopped shining
And my heart stopped beating.
Aug 31, 2020
Aug 31, 2020 at 1:35 PM UTC
We make music when we walk
Shoes laced with guitar strings
Hearts beating to the metronome in my head
When you speak violin comes out
The flowers embedded in your heart are dying
The light in your eyes have burned out
The optimism has drifted from your voice
And left you with hollow bones
The music we played went flat
The waves stopped coming
The sun stopped shining
And my heart stopped beating.
