You can't swim in a town this shallow...You will most assuredly drown tomorrow
A summer day passes slowly. Slower than usual it seems, when all the world has to offer has been eaten alive by complications, addictions, and seemingly petty feuds. My love for Ben Gibbard swells as every Death Cab album to date passes through my ears. 'The Photo Album' and 'Transatlanticsm' seem fitting. Happiness exists over the horizon. Far away. The perfect girl waits unknowingly in a small apartment in New Orleans, or in the unfamiliar territory of ivy-league Massachusetts. The perfect life, with perfect days and nights. Just over the horizon.
There is something about this town that brings everyone down - children and adults alike - something that sings a soft song of isolation...control...a cage. Maybe Kyle had the right idea generally. Get out of here, as fast as you can, before it sucks you in. It makes people angry...it makes people insane with an unexplainable frustration. A shallow anger with no reason or resolution. We are happy for a comfortable lifestyle without real problems, yet we find the tiniest problems to fret over. What happened to summer days?
I mean, real summer days. Summer days when happiness was leveled in how bright the sun was shining. Measured in the sparadic movement of sprinklers; like peak meters of light-refracting liquid on some kind of hidden equalizer. Some kind of humming that exists in the air; resonating at a frequency we have all but tried to ignore. We're all trying to forget. What happened to summer days? Measured in the flight of our spirits. The sound of our footsteps against the clean, refreshed earth. Our childish tendencies have left us alone and cold. Have left us obsessed with success and routine. No 1:30 conversations. No acting up. 'Act'. 'Be normal'. It has left us awake at night. It is inevitable; it will destroy us all. Old age is just around the bend. I can't stand the thought of wasting my air and wasting the beauty of the world around me while I can still be unsettled and wild. Heh, while I can still be alive.
What happened to being alive? Did it fall out of fashion?
There will not be a lack of color in my life. I choose to fill every day with inexplainable beauty; a pallette of the brightest colors I can find. Every single spectrum represented. You can hate me; you can be that always-hungry anger. You can disagree. I will simply wave from wherever my journey takes me; somewhere along the horizon.
Somewhere along the horizon.
There is something about this town that brings everyone down - children and adults alike - something that sings a soft song of isolation...control...a cage. Maybe Kyle had the right idea generally. Get out of here, as fast as you can, before it sucks you in. It makes people angry...it makes people insane with an unexplainable frustration. A shallow anger with no reason or resolution. We are happy for a comfortable lifestyle without real problems, yet we find the tiniest problems to fret over. What happened to summer days?
I mean, real summer days. Summer days when happiness was leveled in how bright the sun was shining. Measured in the sparadic movement of sprinklers; like peak meters of light-refracting liquid on some kind of hidden equalizer. Some kind of humming that exists in the air; resonating at a frequency we have all but tried to ignore. We're all trying to forget. What happened to summer days? Measured in the flight of our spirits. The sound of our footsteps against the clean, refreshed earth. Our childish tendencies have left us alone and cold. Have left us obsessed with success and routine. No 1:30 conversations. No acting up. 'Act'. 'Be normal'. It has left us awake at night. It is inevitable; it will destroy us all. Old age is just around the bend. I can't stand the thought of wasting my air and wasting the beauty of the world around me while I can still be unsettled and wild. Heh, while I can still be alive.
What happened to being alive? Did it fall out of fashion?
There will not be a lack of color in my life. I choose to fill every day with inexplainable beauty; a pallette of the brightest colors I can find. Every single spectrum represented. You can hate me; you can be that always-hungry anger. You can disagree. I will simply wave from wherever my journey takes me; somewhere along the horizon.
Somewhere along the horizon.
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