I am
so close to the sun
I can see the wax coming off of my wings.

So close
that I can see the Earth from here;
see you giving a ****
about whatever is going on around you,
playing it cool when things around you are set ablaze.

So close that I'm past heaven
and can tell you the doors are officially closed.
So close that I'm wondering if there's a point to any of this ****.

Pardon me, friend
if I'm sounding rude to you,
but these are tough times
so it's time for tough words.

Twenty-five years and I'm still so naïve,
thinking that we were sharing this place.
Feeling like a kid left behind after class.

Sometimes it seems to me you give for a fact
there's gonna be a place for you to sleep at night,
so you go about your day
closing your eyes when things make you feel uncomfortable
pretending that's gonna drive them away,
believing that everyone else will figure this **** out.

I'm sorry
are we caring just too much?