They told me to jump in the back. But I have no ribs. They told me to jump in the back. But my tongue already burned in him. And falling through the anger when we are told we have nothing to be angry about. Lets a lot of people off the hook. We are the sole survivors of ourselves. Our pain has been bought by someone else. Pawned. Like air. Like you can do me in the backseat of a Cadillac. Our last chance to push grief aside and let it weep.