Coins and Warm Towels

A shy smell at the laundry mitt

Queens clinking beside worn towels

I look awake and pack a tin

Pretend I'm fine, but my heart knows how

You're the little spark in the spinning light

Folding up my nerves all night

Warm toes, cold hands, and your quiet glance

Now the room feels like a second chance

Soap sets drifting in a neon glow

I chase your shadow through the glass

Every loop of the wash, I lose control

Every slow minute, I want to ask

You're the little spark in the spinning light

Folding up my nerves all night

One dose, cold hands and your quiet glance

Now the room feels like a second chance

A shy smile at Galandrine

Queen's clinking beside one towel