I was almost certain
if you challenged my answer to the question
"can they hear our heartbeats a mile away",
I'd have won the bet that they could.
Our souls were bouncing
off the walls of our rib cages,
cattywampus, but creative.
We were sugar cubes and espresso,
adrenaline and aspiration.
The long walks didn't wear us out,
not at first.
Now, our love walks through a city of lemons
with its mouth closed because it knows
that even though something looks like joy,
there's much more behind a yellow rind smile;
even sunshine only shows you the first
part of a day, leaves you in the dark
Our love walks through
a city of lemons with its mouth closed
for fear of ripening to bitterness. We were not concocted from acidic cynicism; we are not native to this place.
Our love walks
through a city of lemons and I know
it just can't wait to get home.
I can't wait to get home,
home, sweet home.