The voice keeps me loving.
Makes sure that I’m not struggling.
It’s those long car rides,
The one that we past by the almighty tides.
I remember our voices being small,
And the words would try to fall.
I used to love how my voice could go higher.
How I would sing of love, sex, and fire.
I used to love the words that would escape your throat.
Floating away on those tiny, forgotten boats.
The songs you used to send me I can’t listen to anymore.
Mainly because my present is trying to forget my pasts core.
My cords tend to tense up at certain times.
You’ll remember why on certain lines.
But yet I still keep singing my song.
Till dust, till dawn