"Think you must have heard him wrong, cause he wasn't gone that long" The Jets Overhead 'Where Did You Go?'
2009-12-10, 8:13 p.m.

Sunrise. It pierces the dark slowly, lazily. It feels late but it's early and as the sun rises higher it unveils a masked lie to reveal truth. For a brief time real color is cloaked by something unfathomable and misunderstood. Covered in dusk the greens look black and oranges look pink. Sometimes the faint colors of a creeping illumination are preferable, like the dim light in a bar. Under the dark ambiance the bodies smashed together, rubbing against one another in desperation, look beautiful in their wild abandon. But when the sun peaks in the sky they're just inebriated and what was beautiful in the dark makes bile rise in your throat. You would haven't touched her if you knew.
You wouldn't have loved him if you knew.
You wouldn't have brushed your lips to hers just to feel them, you wouldn't have pulled him to you silently and laid your hand on his chest. There would have been some protest maybe, an acknowledgment before that brief surrender that you were just that desperate, that you knew the lie and you wanted it anyway.

Otherwise you're just a fool, prey to a sunrise.