It's all so stale, it's all inconvenient. Walking down streets with a bottle of brandy, it's raining and the world is losing it's center, pale grey colors & shadows & sidewalks scratched with fast ideas & promises of forevers & and other easy gestures. The air is thick with mischief, the rain beats on the gravel, I'm wondering why I even bother trying to reach you anymore. You're a thousand worlds away, and nothing can reach you. Because you're a better person, a better person with better things to do. It's the first sign of rain after a long winter, perfect rain, my shoes are wet, I may have lost my way, and there's nobody to to tell, nobody who cares, and no one will come to the rescue, ever.