Will you think of me every time the chapel's bells toll?
I'm one to forever know exactly what I want and nights like these,
I wish you could see me now.
You'd be proud of how happy I am despite my hands not knowing how to write anything else but sad.
I rarely get sad these days with all the Sun I get but my fingers,
all my fingers know are gloom words.
Suncity feels like a dream I dreamt up feverishly five years ago
and morphed painfully slow into a pleasant deja vu, the kind that's of a lukewarm touch on the skin.
The clock tower chimes twice a day.
I think of you more than twice, but most definitely when I hear the chimes.
You've always made me wonder of love's genuinity and what entails it when
it gets good.
In my head, you'll always be proud of me, in good times or bad, in the same exact way
I'll always feel proud for you and all that cause you blithe.
