you could go for hours months and days in that half hearted pinched kind of way and you dont get too often to the bruise coloured lake to stand hands in your pockets sometimes you dont see nothing much there sunken old moorings rusted out stairs and white sailboats against the sky not really knowing what you came there to find not the buildings concrete spines not the bitterness you always can divine and pull from your heart like so much twine ravelling unravelling ravelling fine you got pretty lost down there in your own mind pathways to hallways to doorways blind all through the winter i could only stand by watching you wake to the hardest kind of trouble with no guiding line i stood beside you thin as a kite wincing in the winds cool bite telling me youll never get nothing right laughing as you said it in the low sunlight so brief in november and impossibly bright
['chamber psych', 'indie folk', 'modern folk rock']