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• Artiste: Ill Lit
• Titre: The Passing Lights
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you tried to move downtown when you moved mid-city. nothing is here, here here the west wind moves through. you think if you had the right weapons in your room, you'd really be something. more dangerous is, what will you say when your children ask about me? cuz they're gonna ask what they're gonna ask and you refuse to lie, so often i'll be long gone. harder than lying is still being still frozen; trapped in a chair with the desk and candle glowing, it's golden. and screaming at the dark at your rage at your age something restrains you. better not apologize again or make friends who disregard this: we get so drunk we take a cab home, the passing lights spin, your hot breath held. you were always up to something. too cute to be trusted. you've been sick for so long you think that loneliness is only this: if you could catch me you'd tear me apart, you wouldn't stop, you can't stop.