The tears run down my face
Onto the wrinkled linen
Because for you it was just the chase.

Nostalgia is a ***** liar that insists things were better than they seemed.

When I lay down at night,
I wonder.
Can the stars see me lie here,
Can god see me cry here?
Why don’t they help me,
No one else sees what I see.

I’m always looking forward to the next thing. Thinking my life is going to get better.
I’ve gotten this far,
And it’s only gotten bad.
So what am I holding onto?
if I were going to leave,
Would anyone be sad?