Some go with summer. Catch the southern breeze rather than waste away in front of me. You said I should always dream big I could be whatever I put in front of me. But some go with summer. While you were gone I could play the artist. You should have seen the colors. I painted the walls of my mind, unchained the old ghosts and let them out to breathe; some things are hard for me. And after Halloween you shoved them back into the dark. When the pavement reached its hands up to cook my legs I could dream I was walking with you on the beach instead of walking alone to work or nowhere. Now the cold wind cuts me down as it blows the last leaves from the trees. Not even the tired limbs can hold on anymore. Now that you're here I can't dream anymore. I am stuck between the teeth of reality, and now my dreams turn their backs on me. Hearts can only hold out so long... like trees.
