53 The Perks of Being a Wallflower in 2020 by Tommy Sandford These songs are a midnight car ride. They are a cold wind breaking across my face, Flowing through the open windows And back into the empty streets. They are lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling. Headphones grafted to our skulls, Across thirty years, we feel infinite. The snow makes its presence known, A storm of hail descends, Nature’s tears grip her mauled creation. The roads are gashes upon her visage, Scars fading into the delicate crystals. How many people have sat where I am? How many have felt the rumble of cars approaching, But can’t be bothered to move? You might as well paint white lines over me. Run me over, just to get by. All of my friends are constellations, An alignment of the stars. I am the new moon, a spot of darkness in a pitch-black universe. Leave these lyrics in shuffle, Let them orbit around my head.
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