When the night sky is your only friend / When you’re tired of playing pretend / When the ground under your feet / Feels like no more than a dream / And you’re in over your head / And your instincts are not fed / Well, you’re not free / You don’t feel free (Alice Phoebe […]

And the city has a way to make you forget / About half the stuff you love and things you don’t know yet / About the space that’s left when nobody talks / About the quiet on the path where nobody walks (Sean Rowe)

This whole world is a foreign land / We swallow the moon, but we do not know our own hand / We’re running with the case, but we ain’t got the gold / And we are trying to leave something behind (Sean Rowe)