You’d wake up before sunrise
because you said you couldn’t sleep.
Not that you liked watching outside
nor the light creep,
and you certainly were't interested
in watching the earth bloom.
There was nothing magnificent enough out there
nor in the bedroom.
You couldn't speak to me; said it was too early.
"There's no place like home."
"I've got to get out of here."
You swore to yourself you'd be gone
by the end of the year.
So yes, it's my fault, I can't be what you need.
I can't compare to the beauty of what your reality seeks.
Then I guess i'm not meant for you;
I'm not your friend
your addiction
nor as strong as your ****.
The sky was inadequate
without the stars;
nothing compared to the way they gleam.
But you’d say that I’m the one
with no dreams.