My street leads all the day down to the water
I'd take my time walking behind my father
In the summer they started the park, like a garden for the Brooklyn Bridge
I couldn't believe that the concrete would leave, or that I was almost no longer a kid
8:32 in the bath all bruised
I collected a few things to wonder about
Like why (why) is my (my) name Violet?
When I've decided my insides are undecided
I fell once a day and never stayed in the same place when hiding
Now the park is finished and I'm somewhere else
And it feels like I never stopped sliding away
Sliding away