The night sky is staring back at you. You're checked out. It's all gone to hell. Bought a one way ticket halfway to Shambhala. The Christmas lights in the tapestry above flicker and fade out of conscious thought. The moon hangs, slack-jawed and silent, shaking your shoulders as you kneel into the pavement. "Won't you leave me be?" But no, he's calling the sun and he's begging for help "*******, stop it!" They're driving you crazy. The pavement is beautiful against your cheek. But here comes everything You're flying on clouds, and there is lights from the sun and the moon is there, crying, "Stop it, stop it!" All you want is the pavement. And your mothers screaming through the glass. And the lights; white and bright and cruel. You only hear the pavement, you only see the night sky; staring back at you.