Fog

It's a prime time of night to walk five miles
and beat the sarcastic Florida sunrise.
I'll float through streets, they're like filing cabinets,
but each is a life.
That fact hurts, but it feels right.
I bet they've got a dog,
and strange grocery preferences,
still in love through irrelevant differences.
I forgot to grab a sweater or proper shoes.
I've been out here for hours,
still thinking of you.

And I wonder where I'd pass out if I walked straight to Brooklyn.
I wonder what the outlets in your room look like.
You said that you could be somewhere
while wishing things were different,
I wonder if he knows that about you.



Credits
Writer(s): Bryson Schmidt
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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