Time has a sick way of picking up speed through each year I fear where my path may lead Have you lost it? Have you lost it? Have you lost your mind yet? I've picked up my spirits since you packed up and I've turned my thoughts away from your nightly whereabouts, these lines were the last thing I cared about
My bad again, I'll pretend this could have been prevented Endless basement nights, brown faulty eyes like the soiled ocean
Turn around turn around is what you should have said, too late to change but not to start again My only logic is to pretend, look to the clouds and make the world I'm in
My head seems to be picking on me in keeping thoughts on where you might be I haven't lost my head just yet I've been talking myself into believing the talks we had were more than things you didn't mean and that you never meant a thing
Does it make me childish to hold on to silly things if so I'll stay this young and keep my memories My feet were meant to move forward