The curse.
It seems as though everyone is having a disappointing time in their hometowns and wants to return to Richmond.
Why is everyone in a funk this Christmas?
Oh, I mean… beyond the fact that the world is coming to and end.
Into our shelters we go
shield us from the unbearably high sky
shroud us in from what we know
bandaged up from all the bleeding love
and
you don’t even believe in outerspace
equal to the rate at which you doubt my crying face
and since you don’t believe me
should I cover up and fake it?
or just sit here with your disbelief and know that I can take it?
[the blow-knowing the things that know]
