victor:nthese days they passnlike leaves on the interstaten& this state of indecisionnleaves me restlessnnyou need a place to rest your head atnwell i need a place to rest my heart atnncluttered, confused with all i knowni can't slip like retracted syllablesnni'm standing still in a crowd that moves nsweat breaks quick like joints and wristsnand it's like the first time you fuckednfought or fell in love.nnit's a seasonal disply of shame, or the feelingnof armageddon (restriction, condemnation)njust to say that it's okay.nnbrandon:n(i'm standing still in a crowd that moves,nsweat breaks quick like joints and wrists)