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We were born into a darkness and found lying on our backs, facing the light of day that soon would fade and cover the blood on our tracks. And our hearts parted with it early and denied its offering. It simply wasn’t enough to catch me up, to save a punch-drunk sinner like me. With all this talk of holding on, I try to keep my head down, baby. I’ve never known another way and I sure as hell don’t know what to say. But I try to keep my head down, baby. I try. With that curious word on the tip of your tongue, in the back of your mind I know you were ready to give it up. Well, “This is the stuff that dreams are made of” I heard it once before. I just didn’t understand it then, that mystery I’ve been living off and on and on and on again. I try to keep my head down, baby. It’s not the way it played out in my mind, but I’ve let up on letting down. So turn the stereo up loud and let the sound of summer play on and on again. And never mind your weaker nights where you sat up waiting all in vain. A hopeful attempt to reconcile is hopeful all the same. And so on and so forth into the left lane.