Byron Lives (not about my byron)did you do it to immortalize yourself?because you knew nothing you did inthe real world could get you into thefront page news? or was it that theonly place you even wanted to matter,to be important, was here in this room?did you really think that they'd forgetyou? or were you just trying to make sure?or perhaps it was just graffiti, and allyou were was a rebel, a poetic rebel who"lives" instead of "was here". no oneremembers you, byron. except for me.i don't often think about you, but when icome across those poorly etched words, thatlittle insignificant piece of writing,it speaks to me like a novel, like ashakepearean play that only i give asecond thought to. byron, i think alot, andi doubt you even remember that you wrotethose words, just the products of a lazyday in first hour. but if it is of anyconsolation or even concern, you do live on.because i want to know who you are.
we dont cross the boulevardwe dont ever crossthe boulevard...we thrive oncuriousityyou dont understandyou've always wanted to gobut someday you'll knowisnt it enoughto sit and wonder aboutthat far other sidewe dont ever crosswe stay safe...but you...you weremeant for greater things