There was a boy who didn't go out. He lived in Vienna and wanted to shout because there'd be a small chance that someone could hear a lonely boy's voice. He didn't shed a tear. He stated instead:

"I don't know why I feel perfectly fine when no one talks to me and I feel like I'm sliding from their arms, out of their sight. I have this feeling, I'm sure you do too. I don't know what it is but I know that it's you who is sliding out of my mind."

The other day he had to leave his house for a moment of consistency. He's happy, he's sad, he's happy, he's sad, he's happy, he's sad. He doesn't know where he's at. Where is he at?

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