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Landing on a runway in Chicago and I'm grounding all my dreams of ever really seeing California, because I know what's in between is something sensual in such non-conventional ways.
Tonight the headphones will deliver you the words that I can't say.
Tonight I'm writing you a million miles away.
Tonight is all about "We miss you."
And I can't forget your style or your cynicism, somehow it was like you were the first to listen to everything we said.
My smile's an open wound without you...and my hands are tied to pages inked to bring you back.
These friends are, new friends are golden.
There's a sick little suicide in all that we do--The Matches
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