Из альбома: Ursa Minor

Bright cloud
Feels weird to be alone now
Cruising sidewalks toward the train
Trying to find thoughts to explain
The significance of a newfound solitude
Far away
Wondering what constitutes the place we stay
Is it the company we keep?
Is it the bed in which we sleep?
Is it the frameworks of our dreams?
Cause I feel a disjuncture
Sometimes when I’m unsure
Between the things that we’re doing
And the people we were
But it seems to fall together when I show it all to you
Gliding
Back to the East Bay and I’m sighting
Handsome boys out on the street
That I see from my window seat
That make me wish that you were here
Cause I’d like to see
Your favorite metaphor for family
Could it be hills of golden grass?
Could it be presence in the past?
Could it be mountains made of clouds?
Yeah the ways we envision
The worlds that we want
All the things that I treasure
They go on and on And I know it’s simplistic
But there’s comfort in change
Some things’ll be different
Some things stay the same

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