We lose our voice and then we forget. time slips our day. sentiments we should have etched in the stained glass of a cab slow to come back from the pock mark. an orgy bemused by backpack attitude. spit and swollen memories of suicide rooms white in showers. half flights over the broken mattress.
Hallmarks of why.
I should say. i should.
I do, but never better.
Never enough and never as much as the knowing that makes me stand up straighter. prouder. full of the conceit few dare mention let alone record across their skin in the hopes that one day the goddamn world will see and then we'll really show them something.
What it means to be in love again.
What it is to be invincible.
King of The Rodeo.mp3