The tension is rising, like waves on the sea, and how much do you really know about me? Or I about you? Is this all going wrong? Did you think of a way to continue this song that we've sung to each other as long as we could, and remembering nothing except when it's good, so for all that is holy, keep singing to me, and I'll try with all fervor to learn how to be the one in the drivers seat, come on, let's race, but I'm always so scared of the endings we chase. Is it all going quickly? It looks like a blur, or is that just my eyesight that fails to endure. Like my mind, it's fatigued, like my thoughts become dark. Is there any way out of this terrible arc? So I slow to a crawl, and I reach out my hand, and I cling to the first thing that looks like dry land in this shipwreck we've made of our time here together. But I know just how much you hate talking about the weather.