Life, the sort that kills me
I want to walk where
Carelessly through the night-time
I recollect the day flow
They are not
Insane, sitting in front of our windowpane
Watching the clock as
Lilypad
In a stream
You made your home by the tired Atlantic
Far
Off and on
Now that you're gone I don't feel so
Seniors, Juniors
Seniors, Juniors
Something tells me it's a joy to be
The light that played upon your face
Was soft and changing
I
» More on Marshmallow Coast