It's like they put everything that ever happened to me and condensed it to five minutes and sixteen seconds. That's why I can't find a picture.
It's my first trip to Disneyland.
It's the inside of my room.
The Mira Costa stage, and the seats and the aisles and the lobby. And every show and concert I've ever seen there.
It's the Christmas lights I have hanging on my bed.
My ring.
The only good belt I own.
It's the stack of home videos sitting in the next room.
It's the house on fifteenth street.
My squeaky saddle shoes, and donuts on Sunday, and getting locked in the bathroom at church, and bread-and-buttering with Mom and Daddy on the way to school.
I can't
I mean. It's difficult to... describe...?
And the chords, like.
Okay.
It's just this, this something. That every time I try to describe it, I lose every good word in my vocabulary.
Like.
Do you understand what I'm trying to say? Just listen to it one day, when it's really quiet.
Just
No comments:
Post a Comment