I’ve got these worn clotheslines
and street wires humming across my brain
in cold winters chill you told me I was eloquent
but I still cannot seem to remember your name
I stopped smoking to make room for you in my lungs
You didn't find that suitable enough so you left
We are the same person if your bed
has held more people in it than your heart
I see this warmth of a summer day
but I can never know the touch of it on my skin
I wonder what it feels like to be kissed by the sky
Probably kind of like kissing
you
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 1:03 PM UTC
I’ve got these worn clotheslines
and street wires humming across my brain
in cold winters chill you told me I was eloquent
but I still cannot seem to remember your name
I stopped smoking to make room for you in my lungs
You didn't find that suitable enough so you left
We are the same person if your bed
has held more people in it than your heart
I see this warmth of a summer day
but I can never know the touch of it on my skin
I wonder what it feels like to be kissed by the sky
Probably kind of like kissing
you
