Again

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AJMA

AJMA is a contemporary musical artist known for their diverse and experimental sound. They blend elements of various genres like R&B, pop, and electronic music to create a unique musical experience. AJMA's music often explores introspective and emotive themes, accompanied by captivating production and soulful vocals. With their distinct style and artistic vision, AJMA has gained a growing fanbase and continues to push creative boundaries in the music industry. more »

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In the dusk of late November
We used to walk along the sound
The wind would steal our breath in bunches 
Didn't want it to be found
As the waves weaved through our silence,
Inhibitions crashing down,
You took a palm of salty sand in case our hourglass ran out
Though somewhat sentimental, I was cynical and proud
So I threw away my shotgun, vows left echoed on the shore
I was sure I'd have another chance to hear them
Again

And yet this rock keeps turning
Again and again, again and again
This rock keeps turning
Without my friend

It was 95 and counting
Beneath our weeping willow tree
You handed me a notebook
A new passage there to read
The opening was jarring
Though the thought was kind of sweet
The line about azaleas
Landed slightly off the beat

Though things were hot and heavy
I was scared of getting loud
In the shade I dared to kiss ya,
Cut short by my self doubt
I would put down roots and stay if I could be there
Again

There was that lazy Tuesday evening
Laying lifeless on the sofa
When we found that awful movie
Where we'd met and shared a soda
The acting was atrocious
The scenery was bleak
But the lightness of your laughter
Kept me glued into my seat

Oh I'd stew inside my silence
And cringe at every scene
But I knew you'd still reach over
Put your stubborn hand in mine
And hold it like we'd never get to be there
Again

And yet this rock keeps turning
Again and again, again and again
This rock keeps turning
Without my friend

And yet this rock keeps turning
Again and again, and again and again
This rock keeps turning
Without my friend

Somewhere in a shoebox there's a half a pint of sand,
A poem about a flower, an old movie that got panned
The strange things we hold onto so our lovers last forever, 
So our friends keep coming over, so our parents stay together

But now they're all sleeping 
In a cardboard mausoleum
And I'd do anything and everything that I possibly could do
Just to find a way to hold them
Again

To hold them again
Again and again
I miss my friend

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