In my dreams, I stand outside of Seven Eleven
Biting the straw of a cherry slushy and sharing
We wait for the sun to set, and for the
Night to rise over our heads
Like the smoke that set flight
Soaring through chemical properties and radioactive elements
That create this chaotic bullshit we call
But to me, the world is just another excuse for
Why teenagers never listen to the rules, or
How every human emotion is labeled with some
Far more ridiculous and out of proportion than the god awful
Television set that collects dust in your living room, spitting
Down your throat, making you
Until you finally escape from all the nonsense and
Find yourself outside of Seven Eleven
And smoking Lucky Strikes