One month from now I'll wake up
And I'll sit down at my kitchen table to watch the morning news
And everything will be normal and ordinary
(Even though it isn't).

I'm accustomed to this century
And the ways we travel
And our not quite empty parting hugs before a plane ride
(Even though I'm not).

One month from now I'll watch the news
And relive my childhood's corruption
And still feel a hieghtened dread when I see their last stand
(Even though it's underlied my every day since).