I stepped off a curb. It was late and I’d been thinking.
I don’t know where I am but I know where I’m going.
I stepped back inside to the smell of cigarettes and cheap wine.
I wouldn't call this home but I’ll call it close tonight.
We’re dying slow.
Existential crisis half way averted. I finished off my drink.
Into the outside world that I’m hurled in. I miss you more and
more as each day pa**es by. Still, you wouldn't believe all of
the situations and places that I feel alone in.
This is our candlelight society.
A place where we can hide our anxieties.
Words to close friends spoken quietly.
Don’t let the outside world in.
We’ll never be alone again.
We’re dying slow.