I'm just kicking around this restless feeling.
The same one I've had since I was a
small kid. I used to like your smile because
it suited your face perfectly. Sometimes
life is when everyone's gone. Send a good
thought my way. What happens when there are more
rainy days ahead yet you still open
your weary eyes? A thought doesn't always
have such good things to say. Shadows shrink and
fade, but this lonely feeling seems to linger.
Most of the time, I'm alright or I
don't know what's wrong with me. It's not a laugh.
I've cried enough. I'm just kicking around
this idea of any kind of love
still leaving its lump in my throat. Why me?
Most of the time, my black flag stands by what
I said. Sailors never stop sailing to
the places where there's a possible map
to their dreams. I'm not here anymore. Most
of the time, I'm undisturbed by my own
disappearance. It was time. I'm not here
means I will be there only when you offer
me room in your truest heart. Until
then, most of the time, silence resigns itself
as the hardest part to finding peace.