Well it seems that I have spun out of control
Days running by, pathetic and unfulfilled
Turning around, to find the place I once found
But the road disappears as the next sunsets

So I’ll keep on walking,
Making music in my head,
For I have not been able to strum a chord
I cannot stay in one place,
Apartment syndrome
My lease is up next week

No place to call home,
I just keep on walking
Trying to figure out which way to go

Sell my things, to the greater good
Just a mattress, some clothes on my back
A half smoked joint,
I have been holding on to
Some point, I will learn to love
And confess my soul, in a simple 3-chord lullaby

I still believe, music makes us listen,
Say the things in such poetic justice
Combining all of our insecurities
All of our woes, and disbeliefs
Bringing us closer together, being able to trust us