I think I had a thousand dreams last night which seemed to drag on forever. At three a.m. I grabbed the keys and started the truck. Heading west just out of town to escape the closeness I still feel with her. And I think I could touch the thick, heavy prairie clouds, and I think I could hear her heart racing faster than the car, and I'm driving someplace wishing things wouldn't grow old or die. And all the years I'll retrace on the wet windshield parked in that field. Those two kissing and fucking, my old buddies fighting and dying and my new friends laughing and smiling and I don't know if I've ever made the right choices. Nice guys will always finish last because they always fall in love with the damaged girls and the damaged girls will always let them. Time will change our weary voices and all I can do is remember they were yesterdays feelings. And I think of just who I'll be when I can leave the thought of her behind and if I'll be reckless and indifferent; since no ones different. And we're enamored with the shit we've read, words that we don't know how to say or when to say them, and it's eloquent they way you speak of how you'll move away but we'll find nothing truer than the lights that form this town. We miss the summer when the neighborhood turns to autumn and we'll miss the autumn when the streets turn to snow and so it goes with the weather and boys thoughts on women.
