My throat's so full of words that my lips just won't let slip. Like 'I am so over all of this...'. These signs they mean nothing anymore, blue skies mean not a thing anymore, and these stars are nothing, to me.
So I shrug it off- the hope that one day you'll return, as I know you'll never return, because you're not a homing bird. And I shrug it off, with hope that one day I'll be fine- I know that I will be fine, with wide smiles, and things kept from minds.
'I'll never get better- I'll learn, and get worse'.