I still remember when we sang a similar song

the way we hummed it to bed

the way you held my face in your palms

the assurance emphasised in those lyrics

those are memories I had promised to hold unto

But even good songs leave the billboard

at one point they fade

but as the baby noise grew

My face dimmed from a sunrise to a sunset

my cheeks grew blue-black

I shade of skin of being a different person each day

and when I was tired i packed

you said I would come back

you were almost right

but your song, only played on the radio

very soon it will drop from No.1

I might not entirely forget its pattern

but I know with time,

you will have never touched the skin upon my face

the Cassette will be dusty

the radio will be too old

new music will be made.



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