Pin My Hopes On High, Keep My Faith Down Low

Joke me something awful. I slipped under the covers and into your arms, feeling at ease for the first time in days. Where were you when I needed you?

Stars on speed-dial. Racing towards a West coast catastrophe. It's not that I don't trust you, actually it is. And I don't trust myself when I think of you anymore. I sell myself out.

I'm chasing August, Navy Pier and all. Cashing in on hits. Casper as an alias on your radio. I'll be the next J.T. LeRoy. George M. Willing's "Idaho."

I feel infuriatingly left out of it all. Much like a tugboat in dry-dock... while she, glittery voyager of a secure destination, steams down the harbor with her whistles whistling and confetti in the air.