Wrung Out and Hanging

It occurred to me in this moment,

That we're all just specks of dust in a lung

We try to breathe into mirrors,

Our reflections misshapen and catch yellow birds but our hopes leave us stung.

We watch over oceans, over seas, and debris, we try oh so hard but refuse to disagree.

And I wish I never learned for my own feet to carry me, and the distance never pulled us apart.

I still feel underneath me the creek at my feet,

I still hear your goodnight ringing in my heart,

It's ringing my heart, wringing out my heart.

Sometimes I wonder as I stand on a stage, with such indecision as if the floor did give way.

If nothing else matters, I guess I should know, am I really anything at all?

I will float on your breath as it leaves your body.

I'll leave your body and I'll let you be.

The california moon, it's a stubborn comfort,

But my love it can't replace or even replicate the grip you have on my poor heart,

And I can't stand and I can barely wait.

I wish you would tell me what this is I'm feeling, 'cause I'm dying to tell you too.

And who's going to see me crumble, who will be there to see?

I wonder if it'd be talked about, or fade like a yellowed memory.