batteries are dead,
you're writing answers on the palms of your hands.
they've drawn out their plans,
put pictures in frames to count down the days.
he should have been there to hold her head,
but he turned and he ran away.
now it may stain his every thought
but it's not what she'd want at all.
this landscape is flat,
you never know how far out it goes.
you cannot turn back,
your footprints are covered in the tracks of the past