It's pouring, and my playlist is spinning the maddest saddest songs.
Franz Ferdinard finally decided to make their exit, the Kooks got tired they stopped playing, and Florence finally stopped healing my heart. Michelle Featherstone took over the stage with her unwillingness to dispose of coffee and cigarettes. Ah, don't we love vices.
We are what we are, possess my heart ok?
"The potential of you and me It's like a book elegantly bound But in a language you can't read just yet"
Or so Death Cab Sings.
I left the door ajar, for rain to find its way to me.
I left the door ajar, for inspiration to creep right in.
I left the door ajar, for you to find your way to me.
* I was listening to the rain and admiring its amazing grace when some weird ass senior neighbour emerged from the opposite side. I eyed him from the corner of my eye and he threw me a very dirty look IT'S NOT A CRIME TO BE BASKING IN THE BEAUTY OF RAIN OK just because you don't appreciate it doesn't mean I CAN'T! *
