lost and forced language in the middle of transition
the search for midnight delights as the leaves turn yellow
past the point where lovers reconsider walking seperate
pages filled with attempts to reinvigorate bruised fruit
acoustic songs and memories of miles first attempting bitches
if only we talked two months ago before hollywood came
it's not too late to return back to white after mexico gold
mumbling for streams hoping sources of flow come back
keep the subtitles and vails over stylish ways to death
base is gone and there's no need to look when it's you
i don't give a fuck anymore about making cents.sense
just turn it back off again so her ghost can keep me company
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