The trash bin is filled with last months ideas.
And this month is staring at me straight on,
With bright eyes and a dull personality.
"We waste days like spare change."
That sentence runs through my head everyday.
My clothes smell like coffee,
and your breathe smells of a last cigarette.
I think we make the perfect match.
Lost in bright lights, disguised in others faces.
Our hearts beat at complete different paces.
It won't take long,
before we dance on other peoples words.
And last months ideas are merely blurs.
