You say: "I never want to seem absurd"
When you're calling me at night
To ask if I can see the moon.
You're the great last hope
Half-spent in the after burn
Of useless little thoughts
Caught inside your delicate throat.
You say: "I never want to let it out."
You're a tropicasualty
Of a long-distance favor, oh no!
"Think of me when you can"
I wrote it on a bathroom wall
Years and years ago
When we could tolerate it all.
Writer(s): Matilda Perks, Marc St Louis
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