That classic cliche of a clock ticking too far
And a love that burns in the back of the mind
Scratching heat into the seams of social self control
But I'm strong enough to smile for the cameras

The tasty dabs of smiling sherbert keep me posted on the here and now
The all work and all play lifestyle brings smile from far and wide
I don't deserve forgiveness for the bitter taste in my mouth
I was the one that melted my key into the furnace
And I'm the one who can see the bridge behind him

Spit on me if you must, my love, my friends, my observant big brother
Pity is not for the imbalanced and favoured
I am strong, I am proud, and I am rolling sixes

Just allow me an occasion to mourn my mistakes
My hand feeling cold and singular again
My eyes dragging across the floor in retrospect
My lust seeping from under my fingernails with gangrenous inferiority
I want what I can't have, shouldn't have, not again

But that empowering sense of growth makes the counter productive
So appealing
Sometimes I can't take it
I would show you the nostalgic touches of the boy you've lost
And the inspiring intensity of the man I have become
Through every nerve and every word you would know why I love you

But..
Life is not that convenient
The imbalance is the nature of this evolving colossus encapsulating our species
I will learn to accept my loss
I will learn to love another
I will continue to develop my scripted status and materialistic hollows
Just know that I hate myself and you
For how much I miss you

It all moves out of view
This spacial slideshow of curious imagery
If you know the place, the images cast nostalgia, a padded sense of familiarity and recollections
dragged out of dusty boxes
If you don't know the place, the images leave an odd awkward sense of speculation,
the stories taken for granted behind other irises that leave you pondering
If the driver doesn't want music, the mind types itself out, fingers picking through the paperwork
The hum gains its repetitive dulling thud, and you have two friends
Sleep or boredom
They both ****

If the driver wants music, boredom still looms in the air, hanging from
the rafters from coils made of dust
But the potential for the pretty little day dream to drop across your lap is something to be admired

Here's where you learn whether you respect your driver's taste
And whether your man enough to say anything about it

And so you are polite, whether you like the music or not
The world outside still takes your eye between the small talk
Billions upon billions of cells joining in sweet matramony so many times over its a wonder so brilliant
that it would break the mind
Joining to form that house. Oh it's gone.

Your mind fills with your life
Two parts goals, work,  study, ambitions
One part relationships, lovers, friends, fueds
A dash of media intermission, those things you saw that were cool
All stirred for 3 hours with a touch of day dream sauce
Wait until the journey ends and you can forget all about it