The dust on the photo book.
The rubber duck that's been played with to extinction.
The pillow that bears the weight of a heavy head,
no longer being thrown through the air as a weapon of playful destruction.

How could one predict?
The immense dissatisfaction that comes with forgetting our roots.

Wide eyes, narrow vision
Cool guys must make a decision

Flee first, stay put
The thirst says go barefoot

Laying underneath, the light shines above
Trying hard to reach but they think they're in love

If only the light could lighten the darkness of a tired eye
Then, maybe then, I could be a cool guy