Secretly I'll give you glimpses, hints of me a longtimeago.
I'm not ready to share it all, don't know if I'll ever be... but I was just thinking about it, with the window open and whisper of damp summer night coming,
how before I had a life, before I had anything to do but play Crash Bandicoot on the Playstation or go to open mic nights at coffee houses
when I worked open to closes at the mall, lived off Sbarro cheese pizza and Gloria Jean's chillers and had nothing to do.
I remember wishing, I remember my heart grieving for something, grasping for the one thing anything that would stick
And make my life make sense.
Throw a bunch of dreams at the wall, at my heart, whatever sticks.
I remember further back, to childhood, pieces of it, and not all of it. I can close my eyes and be there, outside until dark, playing under the branches of a big evergreen, riding bikes, pretending.
Lots of pretending.
And I wonder when I crawled out from that tree, when I stopped make-believe-ing? When I let my heart be broken and let my life be lived. And on the way it happened
while I was probably still day-dreaming.
Because I see my life now, and finally, I have something that sticks.