Eight; Wearer of Masks - Many Mansions
I'm a wearer of masks
you can try this one on
you can teach me the words
and I'll sing along
Lying in bed, Jack's staring at the posters he's plastered to the underside of the mattress above him. Yellowed, peeling papers; the ink is smudged, but he knows what they say by heart anyway. Cowboys in hats and girls in bonnets; wide open, dry grass in every direction. New York was worth it, but it doesn't make it easier to live with.