I've outgrown all of these clothes
nothing's fitting quite like it used to.
The room I slept in for a long time
doesn't hold my dreams like it used to.
It must be time to go
and journey
past these walls
these oh so familiar halls.
I focus so much on arriving
I forget my place and where I'm going.
All the dreams I photograph with my eyes
develop while I'm sleeping in my bed at night.
It must be time to go
and journey
past these walls,
these oh so familiar halls.
I have no freedom.
I have felt like a prisoner.
I've felt so many things.
I have so many faces.
I've outgrown every box,
I've ever tried to fit in.
I sometimes feel like a stranger
when I look into the mirror.
Not so becoming.
I've learned that it's in dying,
there is life.
There is life.
There is life.
The hands up on the walls are turning
faster than I ever though they'd spin.