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
