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@heymig-blog
Sublime.
In a town of small talk, Cicada summers, holidays in the park, coffee every morning in a blue-lit room like every other day.
Counting up the small hours, all repeating, clocking in and out. Television evening in the blue-lit room like any other night.
There's a slow emergency; I can hear the alarm bell ringing. There's a slow emergency; I can hear the bell in the dark.
I can make it out. Things are going okay. I'm brushing off my doubts, but they ain't going away. Things are going okay. I don't want to know what happens next.
Time to get reckless
We'll no longer memorize or rhyme, too far along in our climb, stepping over what now towers to the sky, with no connection.
I'm broke but I'm happy, I'm poor but I'm kind, I'm short but I'm healthy, yeah. I'm high but I'm grounded, I'm sane but I'm overwhelmed, I'm lost but I'm hopeful, baby.
What it all comes down to is that everything's going to be fine, 'cause I've got one hand in my pocket and the other one is giving a high five.
I feel drunk but I'm sober, I'm young and I'm underpaid, I'm tired but I'm working. I care but I'm restless, I'm here but I'm really gone, I'm wrong and I'm sorry.
What it all comes down to is that everything's going to be quite alright, 'cause I've got one hand in my pocket and the other one is flicking a cigarette. What it all comes down to is that I haven't got it all figured out just yet, 'cause I've got one hand in my pocket and the other one is giving the peace sign.
I'm free but I'm focused, I'm green but I'm wise, I'm hard but I'm friendly. I'm sad but I'm laughing, I'm brave but I'm chickenshit, I'm sick but I'm pretty.
And what it all boils down to is that no one's really got it figured out just yet, 'cause I've got one hand in my pocket and the other one is playing the piano. And what it all comes down to, my friends, is that everything's just fine, 'cause I've got one hand in my pocket And the other one is hailing a taxi cab.
On the weekends, we try to get our share of excitement and of fresh air, trying to forget who we're going to be when the alarm rings on Monday morning.
I'm jealous of those who've known you longer than I. Memories, they share with you, that I do not share.
Visions of better times, kingdoms and lilac wine. Why did God fail to improve us? Tear drops of acid rain burning down through my veins. Can't I just sleep for a night?
Despite my fears my fears, I dance for you, even while others knew. When can one wake and live again? I'm desperate.
Maybe we're just sleepwalking.
Who am I to give you what you need, when I'm just learning how to live and to bear the weight and push into the sky? It's easier to lie.