Days are long
gone
Strange is the life of a wanderer,
Dreamer,
Though sleep can't close my eyes anymore
Life no longer clouded by the fog of dreams, and the warmth of my mother
But nightmares and terrors,
And something in the middle where the ground does not touch the sky
I live out of my suitcase
Each day changing my perception of my body
But the weather in my head not letting me ever see clearly
I cannot afford to have breakfast
But a new album sounds nice
No matter what happens,
I am the bringer of my own ocean,
My catastrophe is mine to create.
