#twenty-five

e l i z a b e t h l a n c e - w a y n e

"would you put me in the spotlight on the main stage of your mind so we can both shine?" 𝄞 "wish you could see me as a star..."

The ride was quiet—tranquil, even—but uncanny.

Crane stood at the bow, watching the scenery drift by. After everything he'd seen—the horrors and deaths—the peace almost startled him. How long had it been since he heard birds chirping and insects humming?

Far too long.

Caroline's boat slipped from the channel into a riverbed untouched by the undead. Against his hardened skin beat the morning sun above and the cool breeze from the water below.

But Crane knew better than to let his guard down. The peace wouldn't last. Above them, the Strait's highway stretched over with its looming shadow. Somewhere up there, he spotted movement—slow, staggering shapes—and faint, incomprehensible groans carried on the wind.

Stragglers huddled in the shade, and deeper within nearby tunnels, the Volatiles waited for night.

"Here we are," Jack's voice broke the silence, and Crane followed her gaze. "Harran."

The edge of Harran, though.

Further down the canal, low-rise buildings crept over the tree line. The urban architecture looked no different from Scanderoon: pillars of smoke rising into the golden horizon, the dreary atmosphere, and the haunting wails in the distance.

It hit Crane like a slap to the face, returning to where it all began. Not in the same light as coming back 'home' but heading to Harran's Borderway from a very long road trip.

And his fears about the state of Harran were neither unfounded nor proven. He wasn't close to the Tower, the Slums, or Old Town—miles away from anyone familiar. The only relief was that, somehow, the city hadn't been nuked off the map.

Now he stood at the threshold. The truth was waiting ahead. The same, suffocating questions buzzed loudly inside his skull.

"The Outskirts aren't too far from here either," Jack pointed from the helm, shining her warm grin. "...We could take a detour."

Did he show his anxiety again without realizing it? Once more, she offered baffling options to him when Jack made it her goal to go to Harran.

"Your call, mate."

Crane hesitated, only realizing himself. Nearly standing from his seat, his neck stretched out like a bird's as he stared at the approaching skyline. He exhaled and propped himself down.

"...Stay the course."

Again, Crane was grounded. Again, Jack didn't pry on his anxiety and relief. And again, he did not attempt to deflect his behavior. She gave him space and waited—as she said, she had all the time in the world.

At his own pace. Yeah, right. He could barely organize his thoughts when it came to Harran.

The joking offer, however… helped lighten the weight on his chest. Maybe it wasn't a bad idea, either…

But Kyle Crane couldn't keep running forever.

The boat trip had stretched for hours, winding through channels, with the Strait guiding them. The advantage of having a boat was blissful: no trudging through roads or tunnels filled with nests.

If only he had managed to get his hands on one in the past. Of course, Harran's infrastructure had never allowed for such vehicles.

When they would reach land, the Border would be an entirely new territory for Crane.

Song Review: Lake Street Dive - “Twenty-Five” (Live at the Bridge Studio)

Bridget Kearney wrote it. Akie Bermiss played it. And Rachael Price sung it devastatingly.

It is “Twenty-Five,” the most-recent single from Lake Street Dive’s forthcoming (June 21) Good Together. And while the album version is, itself, incredible, this latest take, recorded at Brooklyn’s Bridge Studio bests it for the purity of Price’s generational voice and Bermiss’ piano.

In it, the narrator looks back and forward and in the middle of life finds herself conflating her fond memories of being young with love for the person she was young with. It’s a feeling everyone who had relationships in their 20s must have from time to time. But Kearney captured it perfectly and Price set it free as she sings:

But all of the joy we had and love we gave away back then/well, it never went to waste/’cause I’ll be an old woman with somebody else by my side/but I will always be in love with how you loved me/when we were twenty-five

Composition. Performance. Delivery. It all comes together for Lake Street Dive on this version of “Twenty-Five.” Listeners who don’t feel it are advised to check their pulse to ensure they’re not already dead.

Grade card: Lake Street Dive - “Twenty-Five” (Live at the Bridge Studio) - A+

I had a fire in me used to know what that means I don't know when it went out and now I've been having these dreams where I'm running down streets and I end up at your house you broke my heart more than I thought I forgave you already I would answer if you called I don't have a buck to my name but goddamn, I'm a star I'm a genius who fucked up

don't we all masturbate? don't we all have last names? oh, honey, you're too good for this world...

but I can't cry anymore over boys with pink hair, over girls with blue eyes I'm fucking 25 and all I want, I want more, I want more than a bedroom in Hollywood somewhere just tryna get by

I followed you down to the coast said I loved you the most I never meant to wake up I wish that we had some more time wish that I had the patience but baby we're too young I take photographs of my friends so I'll remember them when I'm old and can't stand up our memories die with our brains but I do not wanna die let's forget and just make love

don't we all get the mail? don't we all take a piss? oh my god, you're too good for this world...

but I can't cry anymore over boys with pink hair, over girls with blue eyes I'm fucking 25 and all I want, I want more, I want more than a bedroom in Hollywood somewhere just tryna get by

I want more I want more I want more

I want more I want more I want more...

can't cry anymore over you...

Twenty-five and beautiful but never as beautiful as the nights I roamed the streets on bike trails, cheap liquor and smokes, the place I carved my name into the bridge to immortalize forever.

Twenty-five and beautiful but never as beautiful as sleeping on the mattress of "whats his names" floor and crying when he broke my heart a month later.

Twenty-five and beautiful but never as beautiful as today,yesterday, a week ago or a year but always as beautiful as I will ever be again."