I never meant to call so late,
but tomorrow I'm leaving for Nashville.
There's this fear that I've been trying to put into words,
but lyrics just won't appear.
Everything is too unclear.

Airports have a way of making me feel invisible until I speak.
Or maybe it's more like I'm suspended in time:
watch the world move along without me.
Consciousness with no body.

The window in the terminal is only a mirror.
A silhouette reflected as these planes disappear.
(they give themselves up
to the blackness….
to the black sky above)

I met this lady who left home today without a word to her family.
She said "living is starting to feel like an act,
and I'm getting sick of the script".

I can't say I blame her, I've been there myself:
Some circles just come to an end.
Don’t we all want to live out our days in reverse,
until we can be naive again…?

(until we’re all naive again.)

The window in the terminal is only a mirror.
Every departure is the emptiness I feel.
(I had a dream of home
and woke up more alone
than I ever thought was possible….)