So maybe while I'm not together, I can feel like I'm not alone. And somewhere off the in the distance, rapidly advancing, is an onslaught of sorts. Young sirens wail in a skewed sense of glory, and the lions in the cages roar at the memory of flight. And there's a joy, a joy in all I can see. A joy, in every possibility. And all around this is a great, great feeling. American rockets red-glared in our most disgusting triumph. And in passing I am asked, "Do you believe in a God?" I shrug off the answer and continue to get high. In this terror of no explanation, I am looking for a faith. My panic is an only reason. And there's a joy, a joy in all I can see, A joy, in every possibility.