If I take too long to deal with what’s been said, it’s just that I have taken it to conclusions in my head. When every kid in class has found the guts to ask what they can do to help you through, I guess I must look pretty cold: your best friend standing silent, choked by fear. And if we’re back outside and I’m overcome with stress…we’re ten feet from a hive, and you’re barefoot, in a sleeveless dress. If you were only wrapped in a flak jacket and welder’s mask I could relax, but that’s so stupid to expect. So…I made this to protect in other ways. Three pills in a locket around your neck. So: if I make amends; if I cease to be a rusty-mouthed companion to this new mortality…we’re only 12 years old. It’s hard to be so bold about these things. But I’m listening. So tell me what you need from me and I will boost my bravery to match your own. Chorus.