why does everything have to be so convoluted and rough?
trying hard to be wonderful, feel loved, stop, lift your head up.
trains push ahead, quivering in their skeletons, saying, "think i can."
you don't want to get out of bed, but yes you can.
the sun sinks into the hudson to reveal orange street lights.
born amongst the stars, in due time, we'll embody all we should.
every place is the most magnificent when it's where you are.
thinking you're what they call the one, still thinking i'm not that wrong.
months go by, lost again, it all ends with admitting those days are gone.
but i'm not a painting on the wall, not a poem or a song, a verse you write in angst when you think that it means everything.
that it means everything and then you forget about it,
look at us in the future, look back at memories and laugh, like, "oh that was such a great time."
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