i think it's safe to say
we miss each other every once and a while
walking the tracks
city and color
and the way you were that perfect height to me.
this is not a love entry
or an entry of regret
we were perfect at the time
and not so perfect now
in fact the word perfect makes me want to throw up.

just like packing does.
glad i am done.
now it's off to the west
with no internet for ten days
ahh no internet
enough to kill a student i'd say

city and color sometimes still rises something in me
and when your song, which fell onto my ipod, flips on
i pause before deciding to listen to it or not
i think i just miss home.
i just miss it all.
i miss being someone
working for something
not running on a treadmill
in the middle of no where
with a false screen before me
in hopes i'll believe i can go somewhere
other than here.

i think. i need. to go away.
and stay there.
pack my bags one last time.
and stay in one place.
where it rains and is sunny
and i am someone with something
and someone to work for
to set as a goal
to change the world.
i need to go somewhere to stay i think.