A Song for You
There is a song
That pulls at me
It's like a pitch black night
With no stars
In a quiet apartment
TV loud and bright
Or a long bike ride
In the cold of winter
When your own breath
Tickles your lungs
Stings your throat
And makes you cough
It feels like the inside
Of a cardboard box
That will carry away
The parts of your life
That you've gathered
On lonely afternoons
At quiet bookstores
With green carpet
That pulls at me
It's like a pitch black night
With no stars
In a quiet apartment
TV loud and bright
Or a long bike ride
In the cold of winter
When your own breath
Tickles your lungs
Stings your throat
And makes you cough
It feels like the inside
Of a cardboard box
That will carry away
The parts of your life
That you've gathered
On lonely afternoons
At quiet bookstores
With green carpet
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