I forget, I suppose
That depression is triggered too
And in myself
Nothing does it as well
As being alone

I know where this path leads.

The maniac is moving down Main.
An umbrella raised, but there's no rain.
The sun in distain, is laughing at his face.
He shades the pain, from the human race.

The maniac enters the store.
The shoppers stop, and drop to the floor.
They hear him sigh, and begin to cry.
What did he even go there for?

The maniac's at my window.
I hide inside, and pray he'll go.
He rattles on the pane, now there's a steady rain.
But I tell myself Hell No.

The maniac is in my head.
He entered while i dreamt in bed.
He'd found the hidden key, he entered quitely.
The maniac is in my head.

“Look for happy accidents,”
But where?
In the cracks on the sidewalk or
In between the gaps in the clouds…

Spread apart your fingers,
And hand the world to me –
Country by country,
Ocean by ocean,
Until I have it all living inside of me.

I will look for happy accidents,
Deep in the irises of your eyes,
In between the valleys of blue and green and gold,
And I will wish that one day,
These accidents will belong to me.
Like the world you gifted me
That I casually
Dropped,

And let
Shatter.