The world you go and get every morning, is different from the world I end up getting in the afternoon.
Your eyes are different. You're so warm, I'm so lost. You are so vain... I'm turning into you. Stop me before the edge.
Tell us the story, I know you're not boring. Lyrics thrown into the disjointed words of a deep heart. A deep aching self that found others... Other colourful ones. So young, so young. Oh but he thinks he's the king of the world. And she thinks she's fantastic. And so many words creates those worlds.
The one you get every morning and I pick up every evening. And then you join me and then you smile and I make you feel down and then I give you my heart, my attention, my dreams once again.
You, me, the colours. For ever your face in my memory, and yours too and your name in the tips of my fingers. And our hands still ache from all that work. All that creating and destroying we did, was exhausting.
and love keeps coming and going, deep, shallow... shallow worlds that collide and become without wanting it, deeper.
azile.
