Remember how it used to be, Holding the world in arms, Not rustling finger against it, And like all your best friends did, You would look at the world with grit, a soulfulness that could never fit Now that time's gone. But it isn't wrong to speak with what your skin keeps, What crawls thru the synapses and reaches you mountaintop head, Setting its flag of feeling on a proud pedestal. But maybe desire lives fast, dies young, And your feet creep thru the yards for some days, hide behind the sun rays. So, you can raise your gaze to the night when it lasts, the day is adjusted into your life. Sparks soar and collide, Dreams drive thru the highway, And your tragedy is more than home, Here's to comedy that stood thru the night's shades.