barely alive on 2 AM airline

my past is just the places i've passed

the windows were tinted 

my eyes were half shut

my focus is fragile 

if my heart is a glass





here lies the ruins of a little known author

there go the ashes of a dying dream

it's hard to sit down 

when your hometown is a greyhound

now i'm exhausted and

there's no time to sleep





i'm gathering leaves from 

a once beautiful tree

which no one else will have

the chance now to see

or climb





it burning miles at a time

it's mine is mine