Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road. Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go. So make the best of this test, and don't ask why.
A small cloud has fallen. The white mist hits the ground. My lungs comfort me with joy. Vegging on one detail. The rest just crowds around. My eyes itch of burning red.
Thought I ran into you down on the street. Then it turned out to only be a dream. I made a point to burn all of the photographs. She went away and then I took a different path.
Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road. Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go. So make the best of this test and known as why.