under the falling sun I hide amongst the dead
away from all the things that I could’ve said
they’re like paper planes that never land
that were thrown from a tenured hand
that were thrown from a tenured hand

among the tangled lines of right and wrong
is another mistake turned into song
waiting on forever to understand what it meant
you don’t own a life that’s already spent
well, you don’t own a life that’s already spent

I’m tired of missing a life I’ve never had
and this sickness in my head only makes it a...