“Writing is like driving at night in the fog. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.”
― E.L. Doctorow
Ben Howard — Promise
And meet me there, bundles of flowers,
We wait through the hours of cold
Winter shall howl at the walls,
Tearing down doors of time.
Shelter as we go…
And promise me this:
You’ll wait for me only,
Scared of the lonely arms.
Surface, far below these words
And maybe, just maybe I’ll come home
Who am I, darling to you?
Who am I?
Gonna tell you stories of mine
Who am I?
Who am I, darling for you?
Who am I?
Gonna be a burden in time, lonely
Who am I, to you?
Who am I, darling for you?
Who am I?
Going to be a burden
Who am I, darling to you?
Who am I?
I come alone here
I come alone here
