two thousand two
it's been seven years, and i'm sitting in the same room. everything around me is different... i am different... but the situation is the same. and i have to wonder, have we made any progress at all? have we squandered the time we have been given, or is the human race simply at a perpetual standstill?
i dreamed (i think) that he wrote me a letter, asking why he hadn't heard from me.
because i assumed it was over.
because i assumed you never wanted to hear my voice again.
i am alone, now. all the time. those who know are literally at opposite ends of this earth, and i am floating... not here, not there, not closer to you, or truth, not any wiser or any more well-equipped for the job i have to do.
maybe forgetting is the key to being happy.
when i close my eyes i see him, and his eyes are so blue
i dreamed (i think) that he wrote me a letter, asking why he hadn't heard from me.
because i assumed it was over.
because i assumed you never wanted to hear my voice again.
i am alone, now. all the time. those who know are literally at opposite ends of this earth, and i am floating... not here, not there, not closer to you, or truth, not any wiser or any more well-equipped for the job i have to do.
maybe forgetting is the key to being happy.
when i close my eyes i see him, and his eyes are so blue