Chasing you forever into the depth of the night and it's cold out here. Your scent is addictive, so off into oblivion I go again. You as my leader; yourself oblivious to my obsessive following. And the world is dripping, sliding slowly out of existance. It's blurry from all the fast spinning that it does beneath me. I'm still running, splashing, through blurs and splotches of ancient murky colors. There's nothing to be heard, but it's not quiet, not silent; it's loud. Then you stop and there is silence. I smack into you and I can feel my world being put into order. It's all so clearly black with only silver stars twinkling brightly off the reflection in your eyes. We're dancing gracefully and precise. It's all so airy and slow in the twilight of young romance. Now I feel it, the emptiness of the chase that I ran. Thus, I run. Run, run, run, faster away from you. Don't follow. You won't make it in my world of unreal. It's fine now because its usual now. I'm not chasing and you're not following and it's all still until I foolishly fall again.