When past sometimes takes you with soft hands. Forcelessly pulls you to your chair. Hides you away from these half days. Sunless at the end of the year.
From my seat I see the fields move by. Car starts, it's been a long, long time. It's the first time, I see summer on the Westhill. . I lean back and let my eyes just go.
One, two, one, two. . I walked around for hours, two ten pence pieces in my hand. I was alone freezing, still trying hard to understand you. . I left the others knowing, I had to work this by myself.
Five weeks in a prison, I made no friends. There's more time to be done but I've got a week to spend. I didn't pay much attention first time around. Now you're hard not to notice, right here in my town.
Things seem so much better when. They're not part of your close surroundings. Like words in a letter sent. Amplified by the distance. Possibilities and sweeter dreams.
He won't touch you anymore,. Staying at his side.. Half indifferent, half afraid,. It will only make you cry.. . What is given can't be returned.. The cards are in our hands..
We take what's dead. And breathe life in. And move like knives. Through scars on land. . Still untouched. No stain of hands. Caramelized. In a tilted light.