Tate

Fire and evening light, make pictures of my tunes, might even bring a sigh, longing for my phone, one doesn't ring with news, an old burner two tone, the beach is cold of life, grains now turn cool, gone away the city types, it blossoms in my bones, accepts all that we do, even turns to stone, bring me something nice, hot chocolate will do, don't wish a better life, far from being a home, songs eat me up inside, you'll end up in my soul, in the morning rise.