In the crisp seclusion Timid impulses hidden and turned Dormant possibilities Compromised and shadowed and turned away In this suspension This pre-pubescent age The very real question of what will remain at the thaw I don't know Somewhere in the middle I stood standing I didn't know it but I'd never understand it, no There's no explanation There's no answer Lines crooked like the center of your hands and oh I see it now It's brighter when the lights are out Behind the closed door It's turning off and on The light from below blinks true It blinks true And what does it say to you? I see that raw spark sinking The faded blinking and the big man winking at you