I cannot tell my heart when to stop beating for the person who has long since stopped listening for its rhythms, or soothes its cries on a night that it just needs to beat sadly.

Like the nights were mainly made for sayin' things that you can't say tomorrow day.

If it can be destroyed by the truth, it deserves to be destroyed by the truth.

You're trippin' me up.

Where were we?

We're all imprisoned in different ways.

Can someone please, help me out.