it does not make linear sense to miss that which i haven't lived through yet and yet, i'm still upset
the sound will hark back to a space that collected a memory i can't trace it's not my place to claim how come i feel the same way that you feel now when your thoughts return to then?
it's simpler to solidify a daydream at a point b in time than to picture myself in seasons gone by
whenever i feel most alone, tender, i continue to pine for home even when i'm already in my bed i lie in restlessness home is another scented landscape in your head
and the smell will hark back to a space that collected a memory i can't trace it's not my place to claim i want to feel the same way that you feel now when your thoughts return to then