If you're reading this, you probably already know where the dirt road ends. Come anyway. I'll pour you something golden and tell you which rows to look at while you drink it. I don't do tours, I do wanderings — bring a hat, leave your shoes, and stay for lunch. The grapes don't lie, and neither do I.
If you're reading this, you probably already know where the dirt road ends. Come anyway. I'll pour you something golden and tell you which rows to look at while you drink it. I don't do tours, I do wanderings — bring a hat, leave your shoes, and stay for lunch. The grapes don't lie, and neither do I.
Amelie Steam’s still curling off the mirror and I’m in no hurry to clear it. Taste this kind of quiet for a second — feels like coming home to yourself.