solo

It is lonely at 2 am. It’s always lonely, but there are fewer distractions then, and the appearance of a lack of loneliness at other times. Here is my heart. Barely beating. Still, in spite of all of it, I am alive. What fancies fill my time; I dream of that other place. Where all happiness lives, some other world, where god did touch down, and lay upon them a blessing without accompanying it with a tenfold curse. Yes, it is all a lie, every happy thought. It is sometimes too late to be what you might have been. I could have flown, were my wings not broken by lunatics and their children. As it is I can sing, and I will do so, whether you can understand my song or not.