I Know There Is A Moral To

The Accolades, Just Like The Scrapes And Bruises, Fade In The End, And All You're Left With Is Your Ambition.

When You Are Young, You Think It's Going To Be Solved By Love. But It Never Is. Being Close -- As Close As You Can Get -- To Another Person Only Makes Clear That Impassable Distance Between You.' If Being In Love Only Made People More Lonely, Why Would Everyone Want It So Much?' Because Of The Illusion. You Fall In Love, It's Intoxicating, And For A Little While You Feel Like You've Actually Become One With The Other Person. Merged Souls And So On. You Think You'll Never Be Lonely Again.

She Was Gone, And All That Was Left Was The Space Where You'd Grown Around Her, Like A Tree That Grows Around A Fence.

Maybe The First Time You Saw Her You Were Ten. She Was Standing In The Sun Scratching Her Legs. Or Tracing Letters In The Dirt With A Stick. Her Hair Was Being Pulled. Or She Was Pulling Someone's Hair. And A Part Of You Was Drawn To Her, And A Part Of You Resisted--wanting To Ride Off On Your Bicycle, Kick A Stone, Remain Uncomplicated. In The Same Breath You Felt The Strength Of A Man, And A Self-pity That Made You Feel Small And Hurt. Part Of You Thought: Please Don't Look At Me. If You Don't, I Can Still Turn Away. And Part Of You Thought: Look At Me.

Lonely People Are Always Up In The Middle Of The Night.