MILO
now they're standing in the door
singin' "that's my shit, that's my shit"
singin' "that's my shit, that's my shit"
For a brief moment everything remains white and vibrant, Milo’s bird returning to him to settle on his shoulder before he dismisses it. He doesn’t know if he’s flying or walking, if he’s not moving at all as the fog rushes by him. All he sees is white, blinding and bright enough that he squints before eventually closing his eyes and continuing his path.
But something tells him to still, something making him pause in his pursuit. And when he opens his eyes he spies the two paths to take. A brief moment of pause is given, Milo shutting his eyes tight again, and letting the sound call to him as he makes his choice. And then he heads down the right path.
Milo goes right!
But something tells him to still, something making him pause in his pursuit. And when he opens his eyes he spies the two paths to take. A brief moment of pause is given, Milo shutting his eyes tight again, and letting the sound call to him as he makes his choice. And then he heads down the right path.
Milo goes right!
that's what everybody wants an' some more
singing "you may be the death of me"
singing "you may be the death of me"
