black clouds, white sky. burnt roses. stale air. no memories, nope, none.
not even thinking of – you were trying to reach point a but life’s pushing you towards b and you’re pretending you still have control, as if
the steering wheel hasn’t come off right in your hands leaving you fully helpless
well look at your eyes. seems to me they’ll pop out of their sockets from the shock. why are your hands trembling, you brave one?
tell me, tell me it’s going to be okay and i’ll believe you once again. for honestly i haven’t got much option (but that’s our lil secret, okay?)