I can't follow... I'm straying paths and mixing signals. Tomorrow I'll find my feet, then lose them again.
The eyes you looked through were portraits painted of you.
It's not your fault; I'll be the first to say I led myself on and I got lost that way. I retraced my steps back to that place, found the the path I crossed and then I walked for days.
I can't follow guides through streets at night where I make up the names. It all looks the same and nothing speaks to me. Tomorrow I'll wake up but it'll be the same; I'll lose again. I'm so used to holding on to what's not there. I'll live my life in six months time, but right now i'm missing lines.
It's harder than it used to be; staying optimistic.