(no subject)
The world's gone insane and I'm right there with it. Flipping a two headed quarter walking down the street, heads, heads, heads it landed on. Almost once, it landed on tails, until it remembed it was two headed and George Washington smiled back at me again. I'm walking down to your house, flipping my coin to keep my sanity, and I have seven dollars in fives burning a hole in my pocket. Flash my ID card, I'm not 18; doesn't matter it seems. Light one up, burning end's like a firefly. Walking, flipping, five dollars left, but I gave my change to a homeless person, so he could have a future. Or a drink. He could have a future in drinking. I wonder if he has an ID card; would it matter if he didn't?
So here I am, I'm on your doorstep and I don't even have to knock to know you won't open up. So I walk in without knocking, and there you are and you're dead but you're breathing. So what are you? You are dead. You're dead to me. (Why) now(?) I understand it. The world's crazy and the impossible can happen, and it just did; you're nothing to me, you're dead for all I care. Flip flip flip, heads heads tails, and George Washington doesn't appear. Light up another firefly for the night- this could be a long one. I still have seven dollars burning a hole in my pocket, (liar liar pants on fire) and I don't know where it came from. What are you now? Do you know? Breath in, breath out. Or stop. It doesn't matter to me. Breath in hate, breath out lies. Inhale. Exhale, smoke into the air, and my firefly goes out.
Is there any point to this? To us? Is there anything left for a point to exist in? We used to have a point. We used to be the point of interest. Play on words were big on us. Chilling out to music; rock, rap, and our own. The music of unspoken words, unfinished thoughts, unknowing lies. The music of fireflies in the night, and cigs in the morning. Music of first hello's knowing you wish you had (never) gone further, last good-byes wishing you knew then what you (didn't) know now, and every thought and (counter)thought in between.
Flip and it lands on its side, a new angle, and new view. A new side of the story. "I swear I didn't know (that you knew)!" All of these were impossible.
But the impossible can happen, can't it?
And now, you're not dead, and I'm not here. I'm still walking, seven dollars in a five and two ones, flipping a quarter head tails head flip flip flip, so light up another one because this is going to be a long walk on a warm night, and I'm just thinking. About you, about us.
About the (im)possibilities.
So here I am, I'm on your doorstep and I don't even have to knock to know you won't open up. So I walk in without knocking, and there you are and you're dead but you're breathing. So what are you? You are dead. You're dead to me. (Why) now(?) I understand it. The world's crazy and the impossible can happen, and it just did; you're nothing to me, you're dead for all I care. Flip flip flip, heads heads tails, and George Washington doesn't appear. Light up another firefly for the night- this could be a long one. I still have seven dollars burning a hole in my pocket, (liar liar pants on fire) and I don't know where it came from. What are you now? Do you know? Breath in, breath out. Or stop. It doesn't matter to me. Breath in hate, breath out lies. Inhale. Exhale, smoke into the air, and my firefly goes out.
Is there any point to this? To us? Is there anything left for a point to exist in? We used to have a point. We used to be the point of interest. Play on words were big on us. Chilling out to music; rock, rap, and our own. The music of unspoken words, unfinished thoughts, unknowing lies. The music of fireflies in the night, and cigs in the morning. Music of first hello's knowing you wish you had (never) gone further, last good-byes wishing you knew then what you (didn't) know now, and every thought and (counter)thought in between.
Flip and it lands on its side, a new angle, and new view. A new side of the story. "I swear I didn't know (that you knew)!" All of these were impossible.
But the impossible can happen, can't it?
And now, you're not dead, and I'm not here. I'm still walking, seven dollars in a five and two ones, flipping a quarter head tails head flip flip flip, so light up another one because this is going to be a long walk on a warm night, and I'm just thinking. About you, about us.
About the (im)possibilities.