The Post Office
Quelle: Spotify
When we met at the post office my friends were still at the bar and I felt a little guilty walking right past their parked car. See, I hadn't gone to bed, which is where I totally said I'd be. I got busted, but I had to see you. Uh-huh. I think we both needed to see what would happen. Sitting on a bench out in front of that locked up Brooks Pharmacy. We were listening to flags clack against flagpoles. So cold my teeth were chattering. I found it hard to look at your face and it killed me how our knees kept touching. If we can't have it all, can't we at least have someone? 'Cause the feeling last summer was confusing as hell. Windows, and doors, and carpeted floors. Some nights it was hard to tell where the day would begin and the evening would end. So we'd stay up all afternoon so we could feel it all again with the best kind of insomnia. Without everything; we felt alive. How the tree branches reached to your room. How we sat still like stills at a Goodnight Moon. Your arms heavy and waving like an orthodontist's x-ray when you told me to stay and I remained. We walked home in silence and stood in front of my car. You got in and rolled the windows down; turned the radio on. And me, I started driving; last one on the road. I said, "where are we going?" And you said, "just go". Yeah, you said "just go".
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