The days get shorter and the nights get cold. I like the autumn but this place is getting old. I pack up my belongings and I head for the coast. It might not be a lot but I feel like I’m making the most. The days get longer and the nights smell green. I guess it’s not surprising but it’s spring and I should leave.
Everyone’s a building burning with no one to put the fire out. Standing at the window looking out, waiting for time to burn us down. Everyone’s an ocean drowning with no one really to show how. They might get a little better air if they turned themselves into a cloud.