1 step forward is 3 steps back when this summer is over. over are my heels.. over the moon ..and my head is just an iron block. mindless infatuation. no sense.... sever the strings that started to ravel pour the sand over the flame.. there is no gold to sift.. ...we're made of two sudden fools. a simple premature death. smaller mass to bury. no more tales of sweet nothings to the grey people in my dreams. its time to join that parade. we were the best set... the kind they stow away in display cases... to never be touched.