I’ve gotten so damn good at hiding
I think I’ve lost and now I can’t find me
Am I cold under covers
Waiting for love or
Sitting in the parking lot
Crying over what I haven’t got
Flying over covered ground?
Leaping buildings or on the bound?
Lost in the beauty of the music?
Fallen, skinned and counting bruises?
I never loved me like I should have
And now I’m searching crazy like mad
To bring myself with me like carry-on
I only ever need what already gone.