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• Artiste: Kerouac
• Titre: Little Mountains We Move
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in hope but in reality that you won't give up on me, I've gone deeper than you'd think I could, because at all angles I'm drowning in angels, like a space no lake could fill. This isn't the photograph that I imagined years ago, I may be older but now it's so much colder as a leaf on our family tree, but these violets remind me I'm golden. I never said it was for the best, I've never flown but I've not stopped running, I swear I'll come good, I'll push these mountains left to right and I'll come back screaming 'all these violets remind me I'm golden'. I see a winter make it's way through the blinds, these four walls are met with the dimmest glow, I feel an apathy make it's way down my bones, in the nigh time I'll find comfort. I swear one day I'll come good, I'm just stuttering right now, I swear one day I'll come good and somehow I hope you know.