No matter how much I drink, I can still make it up the three flights on your fire escape and crawl back home. And falling up the walls, out the window backwards to over there. I'm gone, with a changeling baby in my place. Hey tell me, is that allowed? A changeling for a changeling? Could you tell the difference? Well don't worry, I'll be back and she'll be gone, out the window backwards, down your fire escape.

Maybe if I bought more jeans. And gave my band t-shirts away to charity. Maybe then they would like me more or at least think I was normal. Although it's probably something that is sensed rather than bluntly seen. I will probably never pass that test. Not that I'd even want to.

Do you think Tide gets rid of tear stains? It's really no matter, I know the crowds I walk among can't see them on me. It's one of the only things belongs solely to me -- the count of my weeping, the travel of my sorrow, I miss you. It comes back to that, but doesn't boil down to it. The essence is actually questionable. I've always believed that everything has a purpose. And this whole mess feels like nothing more than a mess. Is this another test of our love's strength? I feel we've already mastered distance, though. Are we not designed to be close yet? Was our fated meeting early, and now it's getting fixed? Am I supposed to feel another painful autumn, winter? Is my purpose to feel pain? Am I supposed to be discovering my own strengths? I don't see how I can, I am nothing but dependent in this stage. I have no place in Memphis with my placeholders missing.