when we met at the post office
my friends were still at the bar
and i felt a little guilty
walking right past their parked car
see i hadn't gone to bed
which is where i said i'd be
but i had to see you, i think
we both needed to see what would happen
sitting on a bench
outside that locked up pharmacy
we were listening to flags clack against flag poles
so cold my teeth were chattering
i found it hard to look at your face
and it killed me how our knees kept touching
if we can't have it all
can't we at least have something
'cause the feeling last summer
was confusing as hell
windows and doors and carpeted floors
some nights it was hard to tell
where the day would begin
and the evening would end
so we'd stay up all afternoon
so we could feel it all again
with the best kind of insomnia
we felt everything, we felt alive
how the tree branches reached in your room
how we sat so still like stills from goodnight moon
your arms heavy and weighted like an orthodontist's x-ray apron
you told me to stay, and i remained
and something like a promise was made
something like a promise, summer
i will wait for you and i always will
so we walked home in silence
and stood in front of your car
you got in and rolled the windows down
turned the radio on
and me i started driving, last one on the road
and i said where we going, and you said just go
supported by 16 fans who also own “The Post Office”
Makes me nostalgic for three things: something I never had. Something I could have shared with my dad before he dove off and away. Lastly, something I can have. Future nostalgia. brancedar
Rundgren-esque rock with big hooks and a hint of the baroque, recommended for fans of Jon Brion and post-Kill Rock Stars Elliott Smith. Bandcamp New & Notable Feb 20, 2024