We get home, and my Saturday's good. Left alone, I did less than I should. Endless drifting, all the time. Don't you listen? I don't mind. Run along like I figured you would. Something's broken all along. It's no secret something's wrong.
Couldn't you see that wound open? How could it even belong? Through it all you remain, still in frame. Never done haunting that innocent man. Innocent child. Paying your sins out of pocket might take a while. And when you fall down the stairs who'll pick you up? Maybe the asshole that pushed you, asking for more. Sometimes it takes anything to hide the crime. Lucid dreaming out of time. Hide your face in the page of that book.
Is it easy to recognize? Wouldn't think to apologize in the middle of everyone's shared lies. That's all. That's everyone.
