Old guitar... Covered in dust. Fishing pole... Started to rust. Sketchbook... Still on the shelf. Somewhere... I misplaced myself. I knew every word To every song. Now I don't remember The last one I sung. I had dreams That felt so real. When did they Stop feeling real? WHO... WAS... I? BEFORE THE WORLD DECIDED WHO I SHOULD BE? WHO... WAS... I? I used to laugh Without a reason. Stay outside For every season. Now I count The days instead... Waiting For the weekend. Maybe... I'm still here. Just buried Under all these years.
