philidelphia, long island, into boston and out. lights shine from civilizations below. up here all that matters is the night's sky. and for me the world below couldn't mean a think. and as we shake higher, the lights and cities below become clusters of yellow dewdrops painted upon the canvas of the earth's skin. the earth is bleeding through it's long yellow vains. it's the last wound we'll see until we approach the ocean. all i see is black. no more imperfections - black. no longer waves pass my eyes. no longer clouds in the sky. it's beautiful. and now sleep carries me away from new brunswick.