And passing the place that I knew nothing of
I swear I knew more of myself in the aftermath of you.

Under the three lights of Linden I saw
the pages of my life flipped over by a careless wind

As I sipped my iced coffee, blankly staring
at my story as if I'd really rather be somewhere else,

As if I'd heard it all before, if it meant nothing to me;
It couldn't mean much because it didn't mean much to them.

But who am I? The three lights beg the question with ruddy faces
like that of my father at last night's awkward family dinner.

I answer with a grimace and a sound in my throat,
something close to a gurgle of a child and cry of a dog.

The night sky clouds sigh my name and the silhouettes of stars
whisper of the future, of fairies, of other unimaginable things.
So I wait for new beginnings in the town of all my endings.