To the left and the right,
White wires falling out of our ears.
In the dark camera light,
A location where relations disappear.

You are
The white hot hub
Of everything dear.

Procrastination's in my bones,
A biro leaking in the pocket of my jeans.
We left it too late to be sure.
We left it too late to be free.

But you are
A private club,
I'm a VIP.
You are
The one I love,
Always will be.
Well, probably.