When you just can’t sleep, and you’re sick of counting the sheep. The sunlight in your head, just won’t let you put the days to bed. Pick a place to meet, in pajamas and barefeet. On moonlit streets, moving to the rhythm of your heartbeat.
reblogWhen you just can’t sleep, and you’re sick of counting the sheep. The sunlight in your head, just won’t let you put the days to bed. Pick a place to meet, in pajamas and barefeet. On moonlit streets, moving to the rhythm of your heartbeat.
reblog