atlantic ocean, new york skyline i always get lost when i leave the village

my deserted island album is still

i'm wide awake, it's morning - bright eyes.

i could never tire of it (haven't, after all these years) and it puts me at ease. if i could take one thing, this would be it. (and a way to listen to it, of course). but music aside, the words alone stun me. two summers ago i wanted to write a love story set to bright eyes, but it never got past the framework of a skeleton of an idea. i wish he hadn't ended it. mystic valley isn't the same.

you were born inside of a raindrop and i watched you falling to your death. and the sun, well she could not save you. she's falling down too, now the streets are wet.