Every mile that builds up long between us hard to tell if its progress or fade. One week I'd give my whole life to you, the next I'm in half retrograde. I'm too young for planning the future, yet I'm too wise to be in the now. Piece puzzles of morals and complex ideals sit uncomfortable friends in their rows. The heart and the brain are the same in my form, both being impervious fools. They forget their union and joust in a game; enemies disregarding the rules. What then, would you ask, is solution to this script of trite angsty complaint? Feel nothing at all, choose risk it all, or just show some goddamn restraint.