Somethings are difficult to articulate, but simple to illustrate.
We were in your car driving through downtown Urbanana to my house. A Postal Service song came on the radio and I turned to you and raved about the Postal Service. About how amazed I was at Ben Gibbard's ability (talented bastard) to write a beautiful, stunning, perfect lyric. "I - am thinking it's a sign, that the freckles in our eyes are mirror images and when we kiss they perfectly align."
You touched a button on your stereo and the song, "Such Great Heights" came on. And I was struck with utter happiness and uncontainable delight. I kissed you and proceded to dance madly in my seat and we sang along.
It was the smallest thing. It was the smallest thing yet, it filled the biggest space, and right there, right then, it was everything.
'They will see us waving from such great heights, "come down now," they'll say
But everything looks perfect from far away, "come down now," but we'll stay. '
2 comments:
Ahhhhh,
heh.
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