throwing fists at flags, arms and all these heavy bags, sure it wears us down.nbut it's dark in the afternoon if you go to bed oh so alone, so let's wait it out.nthere's a rocking chair on the porch and a promise on a stick flying low so low under the window.n'forever onward, young man' or 'we're forever kid, just keep on sippin'.'nni've been asked to please, oh god please, find the names of broken heroes in bathroom stallsnand memorize beaten down battle cries scrawled on the backs of jackets.n'yes,' i told her, 'i will write them down on my arms.'n'here are five sticks of dynamite,' she said. 'but only if you must.'nnpast the porch, there's a long road out towards the beachnand the waves are breaking out deep tonight.ni can see the thin ankles of boys falling over each othernsprinting down the shore to be the first to feel a crash over their heads.ni hear them with only waterpistols and watches to tell them when to come in.nni know you can drown in shallow water.nnso we sit up, all afraid of another New Morning in America,nweary of spitting in the face of these badlands and swinging wildly until we eat dirt again.nbut what if for now we save our spit, catch swears in our throats, and keep clean on the porch?ni say we keep fighting, always lead with our hearts, and sit this porch like guards all night armed with our drinks and songsnbecause this night can keep on stretching if we never go to bed,n'cause we're forever kid,nor isn't that what they said?