[Intro] To whoever finds this... Welcome to the museum. Admission's free. No. That's a lie. Cost me everything. Please stay together. I have a habit of losing people. [Verse 1] First exhibit, that's my father, two years since he passed, Had to keep the family standing, had to learn to function fast. Everybody needed something, couldn't give myself a minute, Had to put my grieving somewhere, never found my way back in it. There's a younger me beside him, hasn't moved since that day, Still expecting Dad to call him, still rehearsing what he'd say. Next exhibit, there's a leash, little bed against the wall, That's my Baxter, he was there when I had nobody to call. Lost him one year after Dad, I remember thinking, "Please, Haven't I already given enough? Just let me keep one thing." Sorry. You're not supposed to touch the exhibits. [Chorus] DON'T READ THE LETTER! I'M NOT FINISHED YET! There's a thousand things I meant to say, And a thousand I regret! DON'T CLOSE THE DOORS! I'M STILL INSIDE! I came to say goodbye to who I was, But there's nowhere left to hide! [Verse 2] Second wing, relationships, the friendships and departures, People promised they'd be staying, disappeared when things got harder. I was distant, I was difficult, I lied when I was scared, Told somebody I was fine while I was crying in a chair. Lost a love, lost my trust, got apologies unpaid, Built a courtroom in my conscience where I'm guilty either way. Family's always fighting, conversations turn to blame, Anxiety keeps predicting things, depression feeds the shame. Fear's been taking inventory, counting losses I can't change, Then he adds another number every time I take the blame. Got a hundred thoughts colliding, can't distinguish which are mine, SOMETHING'S WRONG INSIDE MY HEAD! I'M RUNNING OUT OF TIME! Wait. That wasn't my fault. Why'd you put that under my... No. Move on. [Interlude] "You're the strong one." "We need you." "Don't disappoint us." "ONE MORE THING!" STOP! [Verse 3] Third exhibit, here's my paycheck, here's the job that's shutting down, Here's the years I spent providing, now I'm losing solid ground. I'm gonna be homeless, living out of what I own, While the people I protected finally have a place called home. Mother's safe and sister's settled, they've got somewhere they can stay, And I'm happy knowing they'll be fine, I mean that when I say... THEN WHY AM I TERRIFIED?! WHY'S THERE NOWHERE LEFT FOR MINE?! I MADE SURE THEY HAD A LANDING, NOW I'M RUNNING OUT OF TIME! I don't blame them, I don't hate them, I'd do everything again, But I'm scared of what comes after when there's nobody to defend. No, no. I love them. I LOVE THEM! I just... Want somebody to worry about me for once. [Bridge] ME: Why does everything belong to me? FEAR: You collected it. ME: I never chose this! FEAR: You chose what it meant. ME: MY FATHER DIED! FEAR: So you tried to replace him. ME: BAXTER DIED! FEAR: So nothing good could stay. ME: MY FRIENDS LEFT! FEAR: So you decided you weren't worth staying for. ME: SHUT UP! FEAR: Look behind you. [Final Verse] There's a child beside my father with his head between his hands, There's a boy beside my Baxter who still doesn't understand. There's a man beside his workplace, wondering where he went wrong, Every version of myself I've been abandoning so long. There's a letter on the counter, there's a pen beside the desk, And the handwriting's familiar, and the paper's soaking wet. "Dear me, I'm sorry that I treated you like someone I could replace." Dear Dad, I wish you knew how hard I've really tried. Dear Baxter, I still turn around expecting you beside me sometimes. Dear friends, I wasn't perfect, I was hurting, I was scared. Dear love, I know I lied to you, I'm sorry I wasn't there. Dear family, I'm so happy you'll have somewhere safe to stay, Even if I have to find a different couch from day to day. I DON'T KNOW WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME! I DON'T KNOW WHO I'M SUPPOSED TO BE! I'M SCARED OF LOSING EVERYTHING! I'M SCARED THERE'S NOTHING LEFT OF ME! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell. [Outro] One last exhibit. An empty chair. An unfinished letter. "Permanent Collection." I thought I was writing to everybody who left. Turns out... I was writing to everyone I left behind in myself. Dear me... You don't have to become your father. You don't have to earn being loved. You don't have to live here anymore. Goodbye.
