Dead In Magazines

Someone called your shot

Just from the other side

The self made rival you are

I thought I caught you breathing

It was just the sound of me laughing

Modern days eve locked arm in arm with Cosmo queens

Turning heads

Then their backs

Trying to find the polarized version of their obsession

This is how to escape the horizon, curled up and frozen still

Its the tilt of the hour glass

And we're slowly thinking, waiting, and waking