These are just moments,
So many inbetweens, unseen
These are just poses,
To hide the arguments that threaten the seams.
So the picture could be scenic,
Of us by a beautiful beach…
But when we throw our daggers,
They’re pictures no one dares to click.
We smile in all the scrapbook photos
Because no one washes their linen in public,
We throw our fits behind closed doors
Because the neighbours aren’t that hard to trick.
So let’s make them jealous,
Not intentionally, of course…
We just live the moment,
From one fight to one night sleeping alone.
We pierce wood in the ground we stand on,
Call it a picket fence or prison…
Night dies and day dawns,
Time to act, someone call action.