barely alive on 2 AM airline   my past is just the places i've passed   the windows were tinted    my eyes were half shut   my focus is fragile    if my heart is a glass         here lies the ruins of a little known author   there go the ashes of a dying dream   it's hard to sit down    when your hometown is a greyhound   now i'm exhausted and   there's no time to sleep         i'm gathering leaves from    a once beautiful tree   which no one else will have   the chance now to see   or climb         it burning miles at a time   it's mine is mine