Oliver sighed.
Having walked into the apartment, the agent heard a certain, almost hypnotic yet haunting piano riff that he had become familiar with, playing on loop.
At the same time, he couldn't help but stare at the bin, watching as a crumpled piece of paper, effortlessly landed into it from right across a corner of the room.
'And it swishes in…' the man inwardly commented, impressed by the throw.
Yet, it fell onto the ground, the bin, full of other crumpled lyric sheets.
'How long has this been going on for now? A week? Two weeks?' Oliver rhetorically questioned, moving forward to pick the crumpled sheet and unfurling it.
-
Spinnin' around…? (Yep. Wrong. Second verse.)
An endless run towards… (First verse would be better. Should review this verse.)
Chasing shadows in the… (Needs tweaking. Move to first too.)
-
