May You Grow Up To Be True

I sometimes picture you before my very eyes and wonder what it is actually like to have you for real. I mean... seriously, Jean! Do you really exist? It's pitchy and ridiculous to have to think of it this way, but isn't this what makes people write songs? or even better... sing them?

I don't really know how to interpret this but air smells odd and different tonight. It's as if all those strangers like us have finally arrived and maybe, just maybe, we could be our true selves tonight. We could give up science and society for good. We could just lay down and pretend to be new babies whose past doesn't exceed the previous second... or perhaps, we could just cry our hearts out for each other? I know you'd buy this. I am dying for you to. Can't you come already, Jean? come alive...

I so miss your half smile. I so miss your everything.