Golden Hour
Macseal
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My skin sticks to your bed
The fan is nothing but noise, nothing but noise
I swear my sweaty hands have typed a bunch of words on my phone
But none of them make much sense
’Till I charmingly sing them out of key
To you on some random night
’Till the Sun dips beneath your window
And you tell me you'll be alright
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And we’ll all pretend to be okay
Where did I go wrong? The air is getting thinner
Where do we get off? I’ve been blessed with a level head
And my flat feet will keep me grounded in the thought I might go ahead
And my body will keep me grounded in my bed