“Don't rain on my parade, it's gonna glow in the dark. I like it better when you can't keep warm. Don't ruin a perfect thing, a perfect thing. The boy on the blue moon dreams of sun. … Now as the rain falls like shattered pieces of glass from the sky, we bleed like water colors and drunken pastels down the stairways. And I ask myself, why do I still pray? When will it end? And who fucking cares? … I swear to God I did what I could. I practically begged you, I pretended everything was fine. A soul sacrifice, an American nightmare. I'd rather be dead.”
