Golden light through dusty blinds, 4 PM again
Recorded all my feelings to a half-broken pen
Cassette dreams and tangled chords, laundry on the floor
I could write a thousand songs about the way you walked out the door
Bedroom ceiling knows my name, knows every restless night
Sunflower on the windowsill still leaning for the light
Somewhere between the demos and the songs that never end
I keep the golden hour close, my most forgiving friend
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