Kind of Love - The Correspondents

An open road, foot to the floor

Kind of love

A cutters to the cage, flight of the dove kind of love

Cliche fulfilled, candle lit

You spin around to some poppy shit

I think this is it.

This is it

Watching your drunken stepped pirouettes

Made me think a thought I haven’t thought of yet:

I have no regrets.

No regrets