Lemon drizzle

Thinking about songwriting and how everything I write is about me, not the thing it's supposed to be about

I’m back in my bedroom in London, sitting at the desk by the window, looking at the street. Flowers on the bushes are still somehow bright and full even if a little sparse. The sky looks big and soft blue, big wisps of thin clouds all over it. The winter feels dirty and dusty. I am tired and happy and full of emotion.

London sky (there’s a man up there)

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