• Behind the window, beyond the pane
    This place never really had a name
    I just loved it for what it truly was
    A place to lay my head.

    From this place I cant be stirred
    At least not without a patient word
    I just leave everything I am behind
    All that held me there, forgotten

    I step into my coveted role
    Narrating without a trace of soul
    I give great meaning to those meaningless things
    That surely didn't mean before

    But alas, I was not made to sit and see
    Many other things were meant for me
    And if God should pluck me from the ground
    May she plant a more lovely flower