barely alive on 2 AM airline my past is just the places i've passed the windows were tinted my eyes were half shut my focus is fragile if my heart is a glass
here lies the ruins of a little known author there go the ashes of a dying dream it's hard to sit down when your hometown is a greyhound now i'm exhausted and there's no time to sleep
i'm gathering leaves from a once beautiful tree which no one else will have the chance now to see or climb