Seattle.

It’s a new place with old buildings
It’s sweet and savory coffee.
It’s midnight and waking up late with headaches.

It’s this place.

There’s a market with people who walk too fast
And girls that smile who haven’t showered
It’s upright pianos and harmonicas
It’s fancy and poverty in one.

It’s musicians in the rain.

It’s godless and it’s full of God
It’s love and it’s hate.  
It’s green but it’s gray.
It’s scheme with no rhyme,
Rhythm without sound.

It’s looking at you and turning around.

It’s mad, but it’s sane
It’s depressed, but it’s okay
It’s fast but it’s slow

It’s staying still and trying to go.

It’s shiny and new
It’s grunge through and through
It’s basements where music's produced
It’s false and it’s true

It’s me and it's you.
It's you through and through.

~Rachel~