Ticketed Passengers Only. L.Foley.
Be still, blue night sky. My heart dies to be on your side of the glass. Tonight, I can’t help imagining the sound of crashing to the ground. FDR at 8am. An empty airport. My only friend, you always back down, without a doubt. So, wipe that smug grin off your face. It’s not the time, nor the place. No matter what you say, you can’t convince yourself this is the right thing. It’s not the right thing. One last chance I reject your call. The plane banks. We begin to fall. This is the best dream I’ve ever had. As long as we are choosing sides, I think its only fair I have the right to make the first round pick. (You should know that you’re still it.) Be still, blue night sky. My brain tries to believe these lies I was fed tonight. I can’t help imagining the sound of crashing to the ground. Be still, blue night sky. My heart dies to be on your side of the glass tonight. I can’t help imagining the sound of our love lost and not found.

From Signals, 2005.