Letters
Words arid, syllabic potpourri
Loving you doesn't make sense to me
We're getting old and you know I've moved on
Why should we act as though nothing is wrong
My love is in your letters
My home is in my songs
And I've been living here too long
Keeping in mind what I know we've been through
Darling don't think this reflects upon you
I'm getting sore by the fit of this shoe
Leaving is something I just have to do
My love is in your letters
My home is in my songs
And I've been living here too long
Heart arid, aortic potpourri
Darling these ghost months mean nothing to me
Autor(es): Benjamin Longman