they cried for the words which were said too late,
for red plastic chairs and jokers,
for waiting on second chances and mail and phone calls and traffic lights,
for remembering the way they wanted to be remembered.
and then they laughed.
they laughed because even after all of this,
after their hearts were ripped out and devoured and forgotten,
they'll be just that - forgotten.
and this will merely be a memory,
a painful reminder of when they were happy.
(this hurts because they won't be happy anymore).
this is no illusion.
this is forever, the end, the end, the end, the end;
don't you get it?
so apparently "this is it".
the open road,
the endless possibilities,
the time to make your dreams a reality.
or something like that.
it's
it sells to be a tragedy, you know.