watching everyone take off their head phones,
just to hear me, just to hear me.

on the corner of, crest and woodview,
you couldn't see me, but i was near you.

screaming at the top, of both of my lungs,
not much air left, it wouldn't matter.

feeling like that bell's, finally been rung,
no more laughter, only children's sadness.

   there's a court date coming,
    there's subpoenas in the mail,
      we can all just ignore it,
        but as soon as we will fail.
         there's a court date coming,
          there's subpoenas in the mail,
           this is something we should go to,
            or this world cannot prevail.

all my scars are from familiar places,
give it a name, and i will listen.

shootin' stars, ask for me to wish them,
i couldn't do it, to my discredit.

i'll exchange a book for your Walkman,
happy birthday, happy birthday.

from afar you will see smiling faces,
no more hiding, now you get it.

        


        december second at three forty two am, with 12 seconds...1988