The Photo Album

I intentionally wrote it out to be an illegible mess. You wanted me to write you letters, but I'd rather lose your address, and forget that we'd ever met and what did or did not occur. Sitting in the station it's all a blur of dancehall hips, pretent

When we laugh indoors the blissful tones bounce off the walls, and fall to the ground Peel the hardwood back to let them loose from decades trapped and listen so still This city is my home construction noise all day long and gutter punks bumming chan