the weather looks terrible but at least hold my hand

I'm burning a candle inside this dusty place and I need a place to sleep.

It is a quarter into the century my dear—
lights, wires, circuits of heat,
and all I want to do is hold you near
and say things tenderly sweet.

Let's make memories worth keeping
and stop relying on our lack of sleeping—
and despite the overwhelmed feelings
on my own feet I am still standing.