Nineteen Ninety Nine

Spring 1999
Thought it went well
Had a bad spell
But things are fine
Now we're holding hands
And we're the best of friends
The weight feels like the mood of trees
A reckoning of things we don't dare to perceive

But then I wake
And it's just a dream
The calculations of my brain misfiring
I'd be remiss without a mention
That I'd care less is it wasn't the intention

But what I think is you know
What you've been up to the most
And it's low



Credits
Writer(s): Youth League
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