These days still last forever
Even though they seem so short
I used to think that I was dying
Now I'm a little distraught
Because I think I might be crying
Or at least that's what I thought

I'm best under the weather,
I keep myself alive
I'm really not an outdoor man
I need to stay inside
My poor brain and my poor hands
Please do not deride

I do not know why I still write
I do not know if I am right
We do not know how to be wrong
Until we write our own love songs
And somewhere near,
I hear
A sound...

I, who am lost, must never be found