I stand at the window and cry, looking
over Montreal in July
The city is flecked with light,
wrapped up in the ink of the night
Over cobblestones and histories, we
sit outside and you wink at me
Jesus Kleist, I needed this
I still can't believe that we even kissed
And I don't know how twenty years went by
without those clear blue eyes
but we're here sleeping in silk
I don't want to go back home, where
the sheets stay cold and I sleep alone, but
now you're here and I feel the warmth of your bones
Tucked inside a backpack, I have a ring
I chose from the trading post
Your fingers are closed around it, too small
to hold it all
And I don't know how twenty years went by
without those clear blue eyes
but we're here sleeping in silk
I don't want to go back home, where
sheets stay cold and I sleep alone, but
now you're here and I feel the warmth of your bones
in the stone of Old Montreal
Pairing lo-fi indie rock with silvery folk instrumentation, the self-described "bedroom pop wizard" casts a cozy, poignant spell. Bandcamp New & Notable Jan 11, 2024