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we walked next to a street full of speeding cars we walked like they had stolen ours the pace-car made for what was a hurried hour you picked at love-me-not flowers and I hope the worst ones come true I hope I don't think the way that their screen taught me to I know the low sound of a steady voice 'if you love something you'd better profit' and you wear a guard like your guard against a lie the lie that told you to speak quiet as something to look at on a screen I hope you don't look at all pretty to me painted a word on the side of your shirt you can't be all they're defining and I remain lost in my father's exhaust and you can't just be a name to find and in time, find us stuck to all those terms made up like a picture to hang on the wall adolescent bedroom wall on the wall | Query failed |