They estimate the falling sun and the Orphists plight stimulated no one. So call
me on no sleep with just a little something to remind us what to do: If you run,
run like hell, and remember there's history; And if they don't believe you, just

send them back to me. Because they can't deny. They just have to see that the
roots and the ruins are the same thing. I often hear the new poetry from your
scratchy throat at quarter-after-three. That's when I know I owe this to you, as

autumn owes the trees, with their roots still strong, from the ruins of some
stray seed. Look out for guns. Look out for girls, and other stories that could
tear apart our world. And no matter what you do, I will look out for you.