They fell down from the sky, they did, their orders.
They came from a place, somewhere higher, then, than we were.
Something higher, then, than us.

Nostalgia wasn't a liar, neither was my mind, but we kept having dreams of better times while in the best time of our lives. The golden girl was the girl next door. The golden girl next door. You're too young to feel like a baby again. You're too young to feel like a baby again.

The golden girl next door, behold, a pearl, ex-*****, and a diamond.

crooked smiles and sporadic appearances
always with a bag of goodies to share
always just crashing the night
but also most of the day
the santa claus of unwelcome gifts
we welcome you to our house
but not what you bring with you
like why are you ******* bringing over some guy
who you think is stealing from you
it scares us man
we care for you

but you scare us without even thinking about it

its the kind of fear
that doesn't immediately look like what it really is

and the kind of habits
you can't see the way we see them

the kind of pain
you think you hide

the kind of person
we don't want you to become

it's never too late
but it's definitely too little
but also too much

you really are better than this
but you don't care
careening off the freeway and into the void below

just know
you don't have to live like this
there is always room to grow

You mistook rock bottom for a mountain plateau, but you were happy, so we decided not to tell you for awhile.

All three lights were red
but we kept going—
afraid of the silence that would settle
between us if we
were stationary.

In silence
there would have been truth:
We have no common conversation.
Do not read between the lines—there is nothing written there.

You   feel   it
coming. You
can    always
feel   it  com-
ing.  It's  here
again. Maybe I would rather be low. Here it is, again, the plateau.

I can never heal if all you want me to be is a bleeding heart.