Petrichor.
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The room is dark.
The truth is hidden.
You still haven’t come.
And I’m not sure why
But my life just keeps on passing me by.
And you won’t come about
No matter how much I shout.
So I’ll just have to get up
And walk myself out.
The lights come on.
The room is bright.
The truth is seen.
Hey, I'm Lexie. Let's get married.
Pray, Myrtle-Wycoff Station, Bushwick
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brooklyntheory
1 year ago on September 23, 2011 at 08:57pm
You Have Really Bad Taste In Music, Williamsburg
via
brooklyntheory
1 year ago on July 03, 2011 at 05:42pm
