the idea is so foreign to me
so unaware, so pure
so dirty, so clean
under the starlight which she praised
on sunny days of nostalgia and honey
she came to me the next day to say hello
but she never said good-bye
and partially it was my fault
but partially it was her's
everyone had their beautiful intimate moments
everyone I knew
they all complained and cried
and some of them said they would even die
but who am I to judge
the closest thing I ever had was far away
and now she's even farther.
when I think about going back in time
to change so many little things
I think of the sad times
the crippling times
since they've been so abundant
and maybe the idea is so foreign to me
that it's a dream I cannot remember
that it's in a place unrecorded
not written down
a town in the middle of nowhere
somewhere I need to disappear completely
somewhere I finally need to see
a few years ago I'd breathe in the sea
and the sea would breathe in me
when I believe the time has come
I will think of her and colors
caused by oil on the pavement
explode in my head
and I dream forever, and ever