We’re all just kind of nowhere, aren’t we?

When we convince ourselves we’re not,

that we’re somewhere worth being?

Then like flypaper pulled apart

time disconnects from space

and we’re left stuck

sticking to the things we swore we’d part.

And just like that

we’re nowhere again,

left waiting to forget how good it felt

to be somewhere.

The letter he sent me from somewhere

Don’t be ashamed.

We’re all going somewhere,

even if that somewhere feels like nowhere,

it’s still somewhere.

And you know what?

You won’t be the only one there.


I’ll be seeing you.