I, with broken hand and bloodstained knuckle, wave. Pumping out coffeedrinks and laughing naive, unaware of what is going on in your numbers.
You, in all your requisite layers like marshmallows on a burning stick, wave. Smiling but holding it all in so that your young charge can take your energy again in the morning.
Do you know that i love you, i know that you love me. But is cheese the only way to hold your hand? What about the meantimes and the inbetweens, Where are you then? pumping coffeedrinks and telling people how to clean that shiny new machine? I'd hire you to work along yourside nine to five five days every seven.
Yes, i know. Or, whatever it is that I am to feel, I feel. And i know. And, yes. I know why you pump and show. I know.
And if it's love, then, yes. I do know and I do.


Can I lose myself on a tiny broom, can I sweep a ditch like I would clean my room?
Afternoon, mornings too. And toughts with humming, I am with you.
I am with you, with you, with you, I am with you.
Can I lose myself in a mighty tune? Can I keep a song inside my head in bloom? Night singing, daytime too. In thoughts with humming.
I am with you, with you, with you, I am with you, I am with you.
Can I lose myself on a tiny broom?
-kylefield