Someday your looks will be gone. I know every crack on these dirty sidewalks. Anytime you need me by my side. He had the glow of a man committed to his decisions, swimming in current like a million miles away from me, putting away his dreams for responsibilities. I dug into my pocket, withdrew a bunch of guitar picks, sorted through them deftly knowing mine by the curve of my thumb, to find one only slightly deformed by my impulsive need to test every pick for suitable tonal qualities. When you wish upon a dream.
Lord Malinov, Song of Songs