[ She finds herself wherever she goes, finds herself in songs and prose, ]

She finds herself wherever she goes, finds herself in songs and prose,
finds herself in the breaking light, the setting sun, the starry night
in outstretched hands and aching words
in studying the wings on birds
since she can't fly she has to run
finds herself in everyone
finds herself in everything
trying to feel alright.

Streetlight beauty was his favorite, fleeting,
made his heart speed up its beating, gave it some strange sense of meaning
where he could find none.
where he could find none.
can't find himself in anyone.
since he can't fly he has to run.
can't ever feeling alright.
Can't see the stars for the streetlights, artificially flavored town,
close your eyes and it all burns down, everything's pretty when the lights are down,
or blinding him instead.

Set a torch to all the bridges, all doors closed
and her heart's still beating, outstretched hands grasp for meaning
She's down to bones, all exposed, wrapped up in her winter clothes,
but she's alive and she finds the pieces of herself everywhere
shredded paper thrown into the sky, like scattered stars ascending
She knows that this is not the ending.
Trying just to feel alright, so many questions in the birthing light,
She has no god to not reply
but silence always follows "why?"