Back home after seeing some unleashed excess on the dance floor. The way back is not supposed to be the best one anyway, and the voices of the night tell me how wrong I've being all this time, but I don't want to listen.
How I wish we could be innocent as child again; bring back those days when rules are clear and no mind or word games are played. What are we hiding from anyway?
Sometimes time runs out of my hand, and sometimes I don't care.
I'm not driving, so I'll tell you where to turn, and you will take me there. Who is in control now? Control over what? Yesterday I wanted to know that was the name of the game. Today I don't care, I just want to have fun, like Cindy Lauper and her girls, even when I have no idea how they look like.
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