If you put it all in one place just to count it,
Has it really counted if you realize
That those faces won't ever seen you again?
I sure hope I haven't loss the touch,
Because I really do miss the contact
Upon the tarmac burnt from friction
To the TV-through-blanket addiction.
By then I will have stopped paying attention,
But my nerves will bend for it
And I'll lie in your lap like a board
For you to wash away your worries.
Sweetness, you're a sugary winter
That won't need a grain of salt
To give me the traction to react.
Speak me a soft coat of words,
I need their warmth holding my back.
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