Jasper Sloan Yip Foxtrot
Foxtrot. Dance around the room. I gotcha, and babe you got me too. What are we doing, Honey?
Wake up. Open up the blinds. The sun's out, let it in your eyes. We could be happy, Honey
But all our sins take up too much space
Speak up. Try to make some sense. It feels good to get it off your chest. I'm trying to be honest, Honey
Break up. Let's tear it all apart and maybe get back to where we started because this is getting harder honey. It's getting so much harder because all our sins take up too much space
We both feel like paper sheets spread flat across each others' knees: if crumpled, folded, torn, or creased the lines would last permanently
Foxtrot. Take me by the hand. I gotcha, I could be your man. What are we doing, Honey?
