It s 17:17
i light up the gas
to make some tea..
I m already a wrecked one..
notes..sound..don t really remember..
it must be a major complexion..
i step up
think for a while..
i wear my pink shoes
run at the bridge..
and you are there,
pushing hard your pencil on the paper..
a little bit berore you tear it..
you looked at me..
you told me you prefer the high way
on your old bike
with your wet black eyes crying friendly to the wind..
there s a little girl running close to shore
and you are climbing iron stars to save her..
such a fool..