Light Years the Years it Was

I can't write the way it was. 
I don't have the tools. 
It's not just coffee, nights, and a knife.
I need a time machine and some proof.

You also need to do your part. 
Which not giving up. 
Slow dance with me. 
Crazy as a lune.

In spite of ourselves.
our noses have more the rainbows.
in spit of spatulas. 
there might be nothing.

there might be something.
especially red eye and red wine
caffeince and lust, 
yeah i hurt like hell.