Somehow I know you're not worried. Because I'm busy enough to be filled up to the brim with socialite; a veritable butterfly of connections. Like little electric currents that I watch late at night when I asked for rain. It's delicate though.
I'm watching it run-through like tape in an old movie house; Us on the big screen. (one single tear runs down her face) 'Perfect shot... but this time look into the camera'
I counted the droplets on my windshield last night, talking about being ethereal, being someone's 'one'. Having that simple girl call me a drunk, watching Independence Day, thinking about being '******' for life.
Every fifteen minutes I'm wondering if she's okay and those that don't deserve worry are still calling me to fix them. I've got the band-aid for everyone else's 'uh-ohs'. Watching the Olympics, thinking about death, then you, then death again.
Avenge me darling. ****** up lullabies, and perfect vision, cutting ties and *****. Going it alone, without the team atmosphere *****. We're so good at it, it's a shame.
Any week but this one. But here is the run-through so it's almost like you're there.