I’ve got my playlist set to Fleetwood Mac.
Constant visions of dreams and landslides.
And my heart is breaking from the pack.
And instead of tears I’m begging for lies.
I’m told mainly,
That players only love you when they’re playing.
And I’m afraid of changing.
But even children get tired of growing.
I’m surprised by how long I’ve listened.
And I’m terrified, that I can’t rise above.
Getting bolder sitting in this prison.
I just might borrow some love.
Because I’m clueless without you.
Your guidance has been replaced.
And I discovered that you are only you.
And life’s making plans to substitute your place.
So I find myself some borrowed love.
If only for a little while.
Until I can rise above.
I’ve been building my life around you for over a mile.
And I’m questioning when it will all add up.
But it won’t.
And this pain is real, following you around like a little pup.
I’ve got so much.
So much hope.
And I can’t just climb a mountain and turn around.
But if Stevie can.
Maybe I can, too.
That sounds like too good of a plan.
Goodbye dreams and landslides.
I’ll be missing you.