"we lost ourselves in dreams of warm nights, deep breaths, and soft lights. burning stars, bleeding hearts. we're standing, beside ourselves, dropping every line in this, our play. twenty years of strained philosophy and billy joel had it all along.
in the only time i've ever known, its us or them-its sadness or euphoria. look alive, its too hard to stomach paint by numbers or death by apathy. for better or for worse, our best intentions won't turn into second guesses. if we're sleeping on the wing, then i guess its too little too late for everything. and if we don't try to keep our head above the tides, then we can start counting the seconds until we fall asleep on the floor of our beloved chesapeake."
