La vie

Watch, as songs drift into the air. Past the turn tables, a fragment of a voice will call to your bottom lip. It is a wild shadow of a girl who never learned to dream. She was, though, once convinced that she had felt the very edges of a starry-eyed man's cloak. Daydreams never count for anything, especially considering she has fifth period Bio.

Excuse me, I have no reason to keep. You do little more than add to my lack of sleep. If it's talk, then talk; I see no reason. I have none, after all, to keep. Or so we say, indifferently.