You see the signs of a love that died and memories gone wrong You reach around the world to find a place where you belong The horror films of heartache have been playing all too loud When you feel your soul has strayed, and sifted through the crowd the caked on beauty of tv stars is drowned in pints down at the bars and all you feel is nothing, but nothing is it all and all these years of nothing have set you up to fall. The worn excuse of living is the truth in why we're giving throw our lives away to madness and our skin begins to pale Drama queens and stocky kings, the subjects of our story the pages haunt the writer as he's tempted with the ale. The story told on movie screens mimics that of all the dreams and all you feel is nothing, but nothing is it all and all these years of nothing have set you up to fall. When numbness is the passion that resides in everything and crayon colored copies now are what we used to be but pressures on the edges start to rip us at the seam the lucid life of craving leaves a soul time to be free. -Jack B. Nimble