I’m so used to travelling with you
Counting the miles as they slowly pass
I remember the last time we tried
We left the filth of the universe behind
We barely had a destination, just our wit
I’m so used to being a party to your ramble
listening to me talk through softer lips
Watching myself act out as if on mirror
Resonating as we slide through ideas.
Yours and mine
We’re eloping. I’m used to it by now
I see you waiting.
Biting your lips and hating me
For standing you up
The train station is no longer heaven without me
My ghost is there. So maybe it’s heaven
I’m sorry I couldn’t make it this time
To count the miles with you
I’m a writer when I’m not busy with engineering stuff, I have an unhealthy love for Fanta and dodo even up to combining them, I talk as quickly as I think and I think the garden of Eden was in Black and white
