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I’d like to fall asleep to the beat of you breathing in a room near a truckstop on a highway somewhere. You are a radio. You are an open door. I am a faulty string of blue christmas lights. You swim through frequencies. You let that stranger in as I’m blinking off and on and off again. We’ve got a lot of time. Or maybe we don’t, but I’d like to think so, so let me pretend.
My Favorite Chords | The Weakerthans
