We're going to your house. Crazy that it's not a dream. In future I'll associate you regularly with this scene.
And the perforated edges of the deciduous seemingly closing in... on... us.
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| Eerily Contented | ||||||||||
| The surrealism of the humid air, aided by "the long and winding road." Trees, too close together, play hide and seek with the restless moon. Tomorrow I won't remember if it's full, but even if, it would be such a void when held against the thickness of the air. We're going to your house. Crazy that it's not a dream. In future I'll associate you regularly with this scene. And the perforated edges of the deciduous seemingly closing in... on... us. |
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