Sunshine, break through the blinds of my Monday,
pour like gold on the rust in my veins.
I was a ghost in the headlines,
till your warm hand rewrote the refrain.
We’re barefoot on the edge of maybe,
laughing at the cracks in the sky;
every shadow you turn into summer,
every kiss is a permanent high.
So stay, light up the miles of my maybes—
if you fade, I’ll still burn from your glow.