a man says a lot of things in summer that he doesn't mean in winter.cool and muted, I am looking forward to my second wind. I am so tired, but I wish I were your moon tonight. my last name doesn't matter, because those who made it don't make me. chimney sweepers and guidance counselors can't contain my multitudes.and if heaven is overwhelmed, meet me in hell for a spell. we will make reservations and dance and wait our turn to burn bright. last night, I forgot my name, sold my soul, drove with my heart in my lap.I thought that I was young; I still do, do you about you?tomorrow evening, everything will be even and okay if you say.the future is just forever forgotten until it happens.when you read this, please know I am not thinking about your dreams.