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
it burning miles at a time
it`s mine is mine