Woke up one morning to find tracks in the rain. I went to follow them to find from where they came. Over a hill and then underneath a bridge. Down by a riverbank I stood along a ridge.
Truth, always deceiving. Never believing in yourself. Truth, not what you're giving. Not what is living inside of you. And doubt is a traitor to you. .
Don't have a name face hidden. New green shoes in the mirror. Just a booth away from flying. In the subway looking down. . Comb the dye from your hair out.