
The Empty Lot
from a journal
Pull up to the lot, so few cars around A voice calls out soft: it's ready now, it's ready now I step inside the door, and nobody's there Twenty years of waiting for the magic to be real Twenty years of waiting Now the magic's gone, the magic's gone The perfect thing arrives when all the light has left The perfect thing arrives when you've forgotten how to want it
A short, original song made from someone’s writing on HiveJournal — names removed. Write yours →