These songs are stupid little letters
Addressed to myself,
Reminders of every mistake I've made.
I place them on a pedestal
But they could never mean
Anything to anyone but me.
Thanks for the impetus,
Thanks for the drive,
Thanks for the dreams and the sleepless nights,
I just wish this made some sense.
I don't feel like throwing my voice or pretending to be real,
I have no strength for this now.
And I don't feel like traveling to Philadelphia or Montclair,
There's nothing for me when I get there.
Thanks for the silence,
Thanks for the jeers,
Thanks for always stealing the wind from my sails,
I just wish this could have gone some other way.
Now I know how John felt when he proclaimed,
"The dream is over!"
Except he got to live it up
And I'm forever no one.
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