I'm stuck. I'm stuck to this page - this pen feels like an anchornSo I'll step outside as the sun fakes his death and cries, it's overnNot for me - the night is still sweet. But I'm beginning to tirenOf the street and its heavy concrete,nSo I'll tightrope walk the telephone wiresnnOh the screams! The screams from the teens, their arms making forestsnAnd the trees are wrapped around me. But I need to be honest when I say thatnI can't! I can't keep you here. I don't have the energynIf you're happy, then I'm happy too nThey left now it's just me, Tom and the wolfnnTonight let's migrate to where the bass is pumpingnTo let ourselves collidenAnd hope that when the light speckles your mattress againnEverything will be just finennThe animals dance under disco lightnThe cigarettes light their faces like lanterns tonightnThe calloused fingers, the rocks in rivers and the fickle fightsnBut we're unaware that we are but wolves chasing for knivesnnHe bared, he bared his teeth and I swore I saw my own facenUnderneath serrated defeat - it pulls threads from their placesnTo tear and fray at the seams, I'm breaking this disguisenThe strings are stitched to your hands as you're waving your goodbyesnnTonight let's migrate to where the bass is pumpingnTo let ourselves collidenAnd hope that when the light speckles your mattress againnEverything will be just finennWe have nothing left to say, so we'll go our separate waysnI supposenI supposenI supposen