Sooner or later, someone is bound to shout fire.
Your desire a theater, crowded with images, larger than life. You never see the one next to you, never even try. You're in a hurry to leave the moment it's over, not even stopping to learn the names.
You say you're not looking for credit, you're looking for blame.
One night sleep is projector you cannot break, seeing in through to the end, your technicolor nightmare, waking to find you're still in the dark.
The old black and whites are watching you.