fold by Canary Room

By the time its my season
I’ll be trying hard to sit
Up, and insulated
The wind knocks at the windows
As I try again to drain the rest of sleep from my eyes

I sit on a stack
Of things I can’t remember
That point me towards the place and time
Where I first lost my mind

New experiences don’t make it all feel better
As I kick, and step right over
Like a stack of magazines
All the things I can’t remember

I never met you
Cause you didn’t want to meet me
I’ll fold and stick in envelopes
The things that I can find of you

• Acoustic
• alphabet soup
• folk
• idk
• indie
• singer-songwriter
• some thoughts
• Portland