Testo: Owen. Gazebo.

Alone on the train, you're running towards or maybe away from a reason to wake each morning. Your thoughts again drift towards us and what we have and haven't become. Your head shakes and you think "never again." It's true what they say about fools who leave too soon, they don't ever really move on. Put your hand in your bag and pull out the Carver book you grabbed before leaving. And then you realize in this too she was right. You make an excuse, you make up a lie. So what's left of your soul like the best friend you just sold to sleep? Easy at night. It's true what they say about fools who speak too soon, they don't ever really know what they're getting into or out of. You're on your way, the taste of blood from a bitten tongue. You're in need of some new teeth that won't cave in.