what do all these people on the streets what do they all mean to you or me the clouds, the sun, the time of day in faces, they walk by me occasionaly noticing where my eyes follow but who remebers a pair of brown eyes in a sea of memories
what is there to really understand the things I say what I really think of you when there’s no one’s there to stay to take pictures of sidewalk cracks and punctuations there are no hearts to be won no battles to be broken I don’t need a reason to see the light and know that it’s there
laughter the distraught another it’s great fun when friends are over all the terrible lovers say something clever for your neighbors you can’t tell them it’s better
