that song you're singing reminds me of the concrete floors we used to dance on in the basement of that old house.
i don't live there anymore.
the smell of cigarettes reminds me of the city, especially the casino we'd always walk past.
we never go there these days.
holding your hand reminds me of my first love who never liked me back.
what was his name again?
and your voice reminds me of that old playground with dirt instead of wood chips.
can we go back in time?
