Dad? I'm here. Did morning come? Not yet. We made it through the Black Dawn or that's what I still believe three weeks underneath the city counting water, counting sleep I remember burning highways drones where stars had been I remember holding your hand I don't remember getting in Dad... why don't I get older? What? Nothing. Something's wrong with the rain it falls the same every night something's wrong with this room nothing dies, nothing dries I keep waking from a memory that ends before I wake and every time I find the truth something takes it away There was a playground near our building yellow coat red shoes you were crying in the smoke I ran toward you No... I ran without you. Dad? You never reached the shelter. I buried you before the city fell. So who have I been talking to? I don't know. If I survived why am I still here? If you are gone why can I hold you near? Maybe they saved my memories maybe they saved my fear maybe this room is all that's left of anyone who disappeared I don't want another morning I don't want another try if you're only something I remember please don't say goodbye I love you, Dad. Dad? I'm here. Did morning come? Not yet...
