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Jas
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1
The weeks slip through our fingers like the dry sand blowing across the dunes,
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Swept into a cardboard box filled with forgotten photographs
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And abandoned songs.
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The past few years are illuminated only by the dim glow
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Of a sun setting in the east
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It's almost night.
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I scour the landscape trying to make out your familiar shape against the horizon.
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But it's amazing how rarely our paths cross considering we share the same bed.
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The sand stings my face and I keep walking, keep looking.
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And I can barely make out the sound of my own voice beneath the wind:
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Maybe we'll be alone.
Lil Nas X, Jack Harlow - INDUSTRY BABY (...
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