It's 11:05. Take one step forward, two steps
to the right, and three steps back.
Why do I get the feeling something isn't right?
We're riding away in the dark, purely motivated
by our own fear. There's nothing chasing us;
there's no one following us.
I'm sailing across the road, compelled by my
own shame. There's something I'm looking to find.
There's someone in the air, not wanting to
be found. She sits ever so slightly along the edge.
We fly faster than our own tears. We race to
reach our fears.
Rightness is all in perspective. We'll never know
our own worth until it's taken from us.