Written Feb' 9th, '09:
Scent of us
and morning glory.
There's still hair on your pillow
and my lips are red.
The foundation of love is uncracked
and we're standing on the rooftop.
There are no planes in this sunny sky.
Ash won't cloud the streets
and heroes won't be made.
The collision is our skin
and the explosion is my organs
The sun will shine on the following
Tuesday morning.
Our hands wrap around the pole
in the underground light[rail]
As we go from
0 to 60
We hold on tighter, and
my mouth meets the sun.
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