A hollow wooden ukulele,
Begins to play for me,
In the dead of the night when I cannot hear it.

Please don't go,
No please don't go.

My stretched black binder,
Holds me together every day,
I don't know how I'd live without it.

I need you here beside me,
Break the spell of living the same day over and over.

The broken but useful headphones on the floor,
Tell their stories of when they remembered their home,
Upon my head and playing what I need to hear.

The sun will dip inside my head,
And winter will come.

Along with the plethora of torn notebooks,
Scattered across my floor,
From all the inspiration I had gathered from day one.

Jump back to square one within a month.