This feeling is bookmarked,
This page is queued,
Later on my mind goes through
Thoughts it has refused.

I've heard about this land
They keep trying to reach,
Sniffing round the borders,
Keeping their minds on a leash.

If my heart could be a red carpet,
If I'd wipe mirrors with my sleeves,
Then I'd let it all resurface,
And I'd emerge from behind the trees.

But as the sun goes down,
The cars resume on their highways,
I'll let it blur through the window,
The glass will make it look so faraway.

My feet know the tracks I've trained them,
In sync with the busy evening,
As long as the doors are still open,
Thoughts in their right orbits are spinning.

But as the clock ticks and tocks,
Bookmarks fall from their pages,
Passerbys suddenly become visitors,
Settling around with their familiar faces.

And on and on this cycle of days,
Brings us together and pushes us away.

And we swing till our backs hurt,
Each of us still putting themselves first.