00:06am - Indie boy, staring.
Staring straight past me.
As you dance on the wooden floor
Of the little corner café
Vans laced up tightly,
Squeaky ever so loudly
As I laugh away.
It's not like you even know me,
As you sing on the open Mic
But your eyes are so vivid and knowing -
You could make anybody believe
That the world is yours to conquer.
You could be goddamn Julius Caesar!
The lights hit your nose ring softly and reflect
Right into my eyes and occasionally,
You'll glance over, with your funky dad shirt
And black skinny jeans that hide your quirky socks.
Curly hair which I'm almost certain you'll try n grow out
- ain't it funny how I just know you?
I'll dance to your voice for eternity, you've captivated me,
My chunky boots squeak along with your vans.
God's - are we synchronised?
You stop and take a sip of the cider you'll deny drinking later,
Indie boy with the sad eyes and funky shirts:
Stop staring straight past me and start staring at me.