No country, no home, no land to call my own.

In the depths of my stagnation. Mired is the daylight. I need a rope. All I want to do is climb . . . and I get kicked down.

Dreaming of you. The dream quickly crumbles. I see all the ways we fall to pieces and how I'm still that sad boy, wondering what it is about you that tears me apart.

Meet me where there are no dreams, so we can forge new ones.

Do you think about me? Do you dream about me? About us? About all the things I can't stop dreaming? If not, get the fuck out of my head . . .