02:09 An angel’s manicure taps at my window
14:09 I realize I’ve turned invisible, all is pointless
02:00 I pull out a big bottle, a fistfull of angels rests in my other hand
14:00 I cry out into the crowd for help over and over, screams silent as a song
01:40 Words run all over the page like an ant army, the paper is no longer dry
13:40 I can pretend to be okay for a little while longer as long as I don’t think
01:23 Sleep has become a feather in Chicago fog, as evasive as Love, Truth
13:23 All I can think about is sleep, my mind slipping into a hopeless abyss
02:09 An angel’s manicure taps at my window
02:10 My nightingale still sings to me