#these cracked streets

[maybefatespeaksspanish]

Today, I finished the verse melody, so all that's left to do is write a bridge melody/arrangement, clean up some of the verses that don't have the lyrics in them yet, and write an outro.

I also have to find a way to transition from piano to harp halfway through the bridge.

(Sneaky sneaky!)

But once I finish writing this song and its instrumental, I will be FOUR SONGS AWAY from being done. FOUR.

[maybefatespeaksspanish]

These Cracked Streets

As I'm riding my bike through this frayed twilight, I let darkness unwind while following half-light. Old streetlamps—that's all this comes down to, old streetlamps, and all that I want to do is bathe in their glow with you. When the sun's civil rays fashion their finespun fade, Venus lends her rosen belt and streetlamps cast their shade; fearless rough-hewn planets carve out the hazy sky as worn and rusty spoked wheels tick out our sense of time. Old houses, that's all this comes down to— old houses, and all that I want to do is race their shadows with you. Every star that drifts ahead once marked my passage home, like cedar ships that sail their way past parapets of chrome. As you speak, Earth's sharp shadow finely veils your eyes— Your twinned and starless irides bear an arenose guise. Let me show you how I lived before I knew your name: the places where I've scraped my knee, the scars that still remain. All the people that I've lost to nebulaic thought happy dwell in each and every broken, vacant spot. As the moon looms ahead, insolent and incomplete, glaucous gloom starts to grow from within these cracked streets. Old asphalt, that's all this comes down to— old asphalt, and all that I want to do is chase where it leads with you. A thousand tiny ghosts gnaw at my fingertips. The wind is just a whisper, and your voice bites your lips. ...and that distant train whistle, that blows through every night, can you hear it clearly?