Yorke

Boca Chica

The traces of my youth

Of all the places they exist

It is here you\'ll find them most. 

Inused floral essence

Wind driven rain

And hopes of sunshine. 

The day ahead and 

The journey home

The sleep that followed 

the music that haunts me. 

I will never hold these things again

This existence is a concept, 

this is how I dream.