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Ristra Roto Es Mi Vida.The sound of children playing seeps through my window and wakes me from dreaming. A pause for nostalgia and thought of simpler days well the wind picks up. Outside my windows there hands a broken rista. Looking towards the ground where the seeds rest and I wish I could lay there too, Start the twenty hour shift that is my day because I don't sleep well anymore. to be a broken rista. This is all I know, now I know no more.
She Spells It With One L.A billion city lights. I never thought I would be so awe struck by light pollution. Do you remember how it used to feel? I remember how I used to feel, because there's still a part of me on that hillside. I found you beautiful. You took me to the tram and I can safely say, Albuquerque never looked better to me.