Well maybe I’m a part of something that’s bigger than meIf I sing off-key with a magnificent sore throat and deaf ears besides, they can't possibly remain mad at me.
Like I’m a page in a book in a library
And inside my heart there’s a dying part that’s always searching
‘Cause I know that there’s a place where I belong
All that I know
All that I see
All that I feel
Inside of me
All that I’ve done
All that I’ve tried
There must be more
To this wonderful
Terrible
Beautiful life
They're not. I charmed them back to life and with each new cleansing breath they watched me smile just for them and forget every dark and terrible thing that I do.
Who is this?
Colony House.
Seems vintage. But rest your throat, baby.
I'm good. A little better every day.
Not if you don't stay quiet. You'll rebound and you'll be flat on the floor by supper.
Make me some tea and I won't.
Done. He goes off to the kitchen to put the kettle on the woodstove and find some acceptable tea bags (people from the UK are HELLA picky on their tea, let me tell you)
Wait. He called me Baby. That's not a Lochlan thing. He's got a hundred thousand nicknames for me. None of them are Baby.