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yellowing light and busy hands. i like your eyes, I search crowds for the back of your neck. bet you didn't know. you make me laugh, you make me feel happy so i ask for this light. light and your time, light and your time. i don't ask for a whole lot from you. i try to try to be a better person. is change a myth fed to us by bright colors and cheerful music? I'll never know the answers i don't know the questions, either i'm letting it all settle into my skin: dust suspended mid-air, particles of light, your hands on the piano, stargazing blankets, but watch for spiders until all the film is exposed and i can make sense of what was of what could be we'll see it all in glorious technicolor connect the dots, constellation