Radio Active Boy Kills Local Dreams

Yesterday kids without any clue. Fairy tales burn and melt away. We're all just saints before the understanding; disposable angels putting on faux-wings that are made to only wither and hang. Last night I found new blue doors to nowhere. Sentence me away to five; to myself I'll be the biggest trader of them all. Telling sincere lies all night long.

We live split lives. Like a split level house.. one for happiness and the other for god knows what.

Spin me in circles and redirect me to the time when I could say what I wanted and not feel judged because I didn't know any better.

Any better? Ask again and call me in a few weeks.

Silhouettes move faster when they have something to hide, and there is something so perfect about holding someones hand on a ledge. It's like even if you fall it wouldn't be so bad.