6:46 Sun Is Rising

From the pap of Glencoe, from the bay at Wester Ross, all the rivers I've crossed, the orange sky at Loch Torridon, I was promised more than this, but you never gave me anything. You said I could have the sky and the moon, before you took my smile and squashed it like a beetle under your foot, and the day was doused in a monstrous karma, and I went on like it never happened, afraid of the inevitable. I don't believe a word that comes from your mouth, all the lies you tell, the sarcastic undertones, when you try to deceive me into thinking I'm in the wrong. I was cold and alone, trying to relieve the aches of life. I put the freckles back on. I put my insomnia into the memory box of sleepless nights, with little buttons of magic, with thoughts of the sun and moonshine. We are dissident in our ways of thinking.