Lets tell all the keepers of time that they’ve had it wrong all these years.
We found a flaw in their plan.
A cricket in their matrix that keeps chirping to only us.
Time can’t be linear.
You can’t say yesterday was then and tomorrow is over there.
How can it be when I’ve known you for a short while but our bodies are so familiar,
as if we’ve been in a non stop orgy of just us.
Which means to beg me, we have to speak with the dictionary next.
Their words are wrong, like us cannot be two people when we often are one.
How do you see into my eyes when you speak through my lips
and how can my kiss attach itself to myself when your lips are hugging the lobe of my ear?
Time is wrong. Reality is false. The world means nothing.
Because in our own world we make the rules.
You and I.
Bonnie and Clyde.
