Initiate Booster Ignition Sequence for Launch

Fingers going at the rate of my thoughts. I've been shedding tears in nightmares the past few nights. Dreaming everyone close to me away. I think that I only apply this pressure to myselft because that's how you are supposed to handle an open wound. Still trying to convince them all to swallow reality and belch the truth. That's my cure. This year everyone exchanged guilt for the holidays. It's always "give love, make blood" when they're around. Torn between telling you the truth or letting you get what you deserve.

This year when the ball dropped we all became rockets with our clocks counting down to lift-off. I'm in love with the way that my mind ignites between exit 30 and exit 9, and when the miles per hour work themselves down the insecurity sets in and my heart beats faster knowing you'll meet me at the door. Empty lanes to refuge. Fix me in 25.

For you and me. NYC was matchbooks becoming notebooks to mark our travels. Stealing glasses at Caliente and never rollin' on the wheels we meant to. Last minute decisions, another night in the city. The Time it is a changing. A few nights in mustard, the last in ketchup. Glow-in-the-dark bling, and old friends busting in on date night. Bedtime is 5:00. Holding down the VIP at the W Times Square and ShirtTales toy cars.

Pretzels consuming faces, quick snapshots of the empire skyline. Forgettable subway rides. Ray, Tiffany, Balto and Stouty. Crazy Chinese cab drivers, and altercations with Christmas trees.

49th and 7th. Full circle. You saw me see the ball drop... right?