Dreams are meant to be chased, you say, and I am there. Four hundreds sixty two kilometers away from everything that screams comfort for both of us, and I am there. Four hundreds sixty two kilometers, the turning point where the car hits the road, doesn't care how loud I scream inside, begging the universe to bring you back to me, to bring me back to you, to eliminate the four hundreds sixty two kilometers from our way.
And I cry, you cry, and we both don't know how to stop.
In that very moment I stare at the horizon that would be different from mine. That horizon is yours, and I'll go back to the place where the horizon used to be ours. And I will never stare at the same constellation, I will never have the same stormy rain we used to run through together, I will never have the same field where we lay back our head, stick it to each other. I will find your shadow plastering on the horizon, I will hear your voice resonates in every corner of the street I turn myself into;
But you won't see me, you won't hear me,
Because I have lost you, between four hundreds sixty two kilometers, between a slight time difference, I have lost you, I lost you: forever.
