I said, 'What sir?'
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With The Neighbourhood tracks blaring on the radio, playing on medium volume; it's 3.48am and she kept her gaze out to the roadside, with the twilight scent of endless dark skies, feeling untouched. Like someone would paint it all soft black with no colour, except the lights from the street's lamp post making it more relevant to reality.
And both hands tucked tightly in her skinny jeans' pocket, she clenched her teeth, half wanting half denying. He looked at her and say, 'Don't be too hard would you? We still have some couple tracks to go'.
'Then what happens when the tracks ended?'
'I guess, if that so, well you just got to remember how it feels, nevermind the lyrics', he replied.
Nevermind the lyrics.
She's half laughing while looking at him for a second. Shaking her head, throwing her arms high, letting the cold night hit her hard, screaming, 'What if I like the lyrics? All of them beautiful lyrics'.
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