It's 1 o'clock in the morning here in my bedroom in ye olde Lubbock, TX. I'm drinking an IBC root beer while listening to "Trains to Brazil" by the Guillemots, who incidently, aren't that good. I can hear the tremendous winds howling by window as they speed through the small section of space between our house and the neighbors'. I am now listening to "You're It" by Halloween, Alaska, which incidently, is a beautiful song. It's a little later and my root beer is more in my stomach and less in its glass container.

"You're it,
the silver on a little cloud.
You're it,
and this is the shit that I've been talking about.
You're it,
the sickness in a thinning crowd.
Your it,
and this is the shit that I've been talking about."