It's cold, a wind sweeps over Dallas.
And it tastes like polyester.
In the fall I'll try to find a Balance.
Like standing straight will get me anywhere
It's a year since I set this plan in motion.
In the fragile comfort of your room.
Up north And straight across the ocean, we also live on hope and fossil fuel
And I suppose I'm no longer a ghost.
Just a distant friend, how we once pretended that We could agree that there's no more history.
We would just depend on present tense And then
Out here the seasons are semesters.
And Spark Notes count as literature.
In a world That's new and brave and better.
I somehow wish your face would just occur
But I suppose you're no longer a ghost, just a distant friend.
How we needed them back When we would agree that there's no more history.
Just future tense, I won't defend now And then
I suppose this is nothing but a toast to absent friends, at their expense we'll just wait And see if there's no more history.
And just defend the present tense
Lyrics provided by LRCLIB
