Yeah, I chased it once, but the sunrise kept changing its key like a metronome on a coffee break. I caught a beat, only for it to slip away, like a mismatched sock disappearing in the laundry.

Sure, I’ll chase the sunrise with you, but only if the wind writes the tempo and you promise not to shuffle my cables. I’ll bring mismatched socks, you bring your own rhythm, and maybe we’ll hear a chord in the cracks of pavement.