Yeah, it’s like that

I am that Sunday morning when the fat raindrops slap the bedroom window
You are the fresh crisp pages of a book I have waited too long to read

I am that strong and gentle hand on the back of your neck late on a restless night
You are the soft caress reminding me that there is still something left to fight for

I am the moment you look into the eye of a child and find hope in his innocence
You are the second between the sleep and diving into the underworld of slumber

I am your playground in the middle of the urban sprawl that threatens your peace
You are the last seat in the last bar on earth where my work collides with my love

Yeah, it’s like that

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