"There are ways around this, man... Join a church perhaps?" the voice of reason crows. But this is how we prove our worth, charging headlong toward these flickers in the dark. "Give me the strongest thing you've got."
"I've only come here to observe." But from this hungry mouth such pretense is absurd. There's no sense mincing words; despite how hard I've tried to hide my sunken cheeks and hollowed eyes, they are recognized. Thus exposed I do what I suppose I should and slip softly from the room, afraid even to match your smile. Just think how well we've learned to lie about the simplest things in life... I take a breath and step inside.
With the lights out we move our bodies, let our minds fill in the colors in between the grey outlines. With the lights out, we stumble closer wondering if what we've seen is what we think we've seen this time. And this time you won't let one more pass you by, 'cause you know: this is all you have tonight.
But here you are, and you're stumbling down the street toward my house. And something I see in your eyes makes me think you might see something in mine. And we're in no state to decide between those things we think are wrong and those few things we think could possibly be right. So ultimately we're resigned that the difference is too slight, and besides: this is all you have tonight.
I'm stirring, light is pouring through mesh and bamboo onto six weathered maps and four guitars and my disheveled chest of drawers, the air I'm breathing only mine, none of it yours, and you haven't left a trace.
Your fingers wrapped around my heart, and my heart may as well stop.