缺頁(yè)的日歷里翻找你的指紋

凌晨四點(diǎn)的街燈把影子拉長(zhǎng)成問(wèn)

冰箱的半杯奶昔在過(guò)期里哽咽

像那句晚安，永遠(yuǎn)送不到你唇

拼圖少一塊，星圖缺了北極

我把名字寫進(jìn)風(fēng)，卻拼不回你

耳機(jī)循環(huán)著空白，心跳踩錯(cuò)拍

missing pieces，在我胸口，越缺越重，越重越輕

Dramamine on my tongue, streetlights blur into sun

Backseat ghosts hum along, every wrong turn’s a song

Your laugh spins the ceiling, a vinyl sky concealing

That I’m seasick from staying, anchored to what’s fraying

Count the dotted lines—white pills, white lies—

Till the rearview forgets the shape of your eyes

Motion’s the only truth when the rest decays;

I drift, I drift, in the wake of our yesterdays