You were new, never seen your face before
As I’m writing this, I’m sitting on a train.
The darkness outside has long laid ist coat over the green fields, red brick houses and little farms. The streetlights flash, blurring into small lines on the horizon as we pass them by. Soon I’ll be back home. Soon I won’t smell the stale air-conditioned air anymore. I’m thinking of the warm blue smoke that will fill my lungs while the cool midnight air will brush through my hair. The strap of my messenger bag will dig into my left shoulder. My legs will be tired, I’ll be tired.
You can never change, when you want to
I’ll walk up the stairs to my apartment. Four floors, my breathing will be heavy. I’ll unlock the door, drop my bag to my right. I’ll throw my clothes onto the floor. First my zip-hoodie, then unbuckling my belt. Finally I’ll find the light switch. The light in my neighbours kitchen across the yard will still be on. I’ll get rid of my socks and my pants at the same time. My shirt won’t smell too good from the whole day I spent running around another city. My nose will still be running, alerted by my hay fever. My black shirt will comfort me on may way back to the bathroom. The cold water on my head will soothe me, refresh me. The toothpaste will help getting rid of stale smoke.
Someday I’ll buy you flowers
I’ll fall asleep all by myself. In my dreams an old friend will pay me a visit. I thought we said our farewells. She’ll bite into me, get under my skin, dig up long forgotten memories. She’ll take me for a run, for another ride, never mind if I’m tired. This one last glass, one last cigarette, maybe one last kiss. Goodnight, wake up, repeat.
Trouble With Templeton’s new record Rookie is out via Cooperative Music/PIAS.