Sorrow drips into your heart through a pinhole
Just like a faucet that leaks and there is comfort in the sound
But while you debate half empty or half full
It slowly rises, your love is gonna drown
Just like a faucet that leaks and there is comfort in the sound
But while you debate half empty or half full
It slowly rises, your love is gonna drown
“Marching Band of Manhattan,” Death Cab for Cutie
Most mornings, I wake up with a song filling my head.
In the last few years, more often than not, it’s this chorus.
Ben Gibbard is haunting me.
