I've been all over, I think.
It's confusing.

There's this thing I love. I love it so much,
I don't think I could go without.
It's bad for me,
in excess.
It holds me under my arms and carries me to celestial bodies.
It turns me alive.

There's the real world. I  despise it.
If it means to part with what I need.
I cling so desperately but-

-has anyone noticed why?

It doesn't really matter the reason.
I don't want to know.
But it's the one thing I want to hold onto.

Ah, I remember the times I'd lay really quiet.
Thinking all day and night about magic.
It's what I need. It's what kills me.

I feel the farewell a bit too close, it is near.
And I
feel the farewell a bit too much.
It saddens me.

Growing up and leaving this, are you crazy?
I'm a madman, when has anyone seen me let go?
I'll cling with each particle of my being, at the risk of sounding dramatic.

But I'll be happier than the housewives and the office men.
I'll have it-

-this thing I love. It's something I do.
It's nothing interesting.
It's my whole world.