the soft

tomorrow

fold my heart

like a paper crane

and you let me fly 

oh 

tell me about freedom. tell me about those 1 am nights where you cried but kept writing, where your brain seemed to fail and each step a landmine. tell me about those sleepless nights when you turned your head to the murky window nearby and was shocked by that glass face that stared back at you. and did you realize? in that moment? your innocence had ran away like your friends and who else did you have left to trust? who else was left in that dark expanse in front of you? you,

left with 1 am thoughts and your own demon in that window to the right of that stuffed animal you kept from fifteen years back and it is a coin in your tongue and hope for peace, hope for tomorrow but more than that, hope that tomorrow will not have you with it

and now tell me about those 1 am nights with the wind in your hair, with the windows rolled down in the sixteen-year-old car with its peeled seats and some wild creature is driving you somewhere, anywhere, anywhere from this empty life with its empty 1 am nights poured over listless eyes and you don't know where you're going but it doesn't matter when the song is ripping through your ears and your lungs are shattered like that face you dug out of the window because that is the thrill of it. and that is the thrill of it and you don't care if you won't see tomorrow

there is that certain satisfaction of so much fun your veins seem like they are ripping out and you won't be crying in the club, so tomorrow better not come 

but come tomorrow. it will be another 1am night with coffee poured over tears and maybe today will be the day that tomorrow will be defeated 

but tell me about this freedom, the bird hidden in your heart. it sings from the deepest parts of you. tell me about this freedom and. you chose these 1 am nights. you chose these 1 am nights and you like thinking that you had the freedom to choose these 1 am nights and you could hardly care if you won't see tomorrow