I am happy staying in quiet, but I'll be scared to see the letters you'll write. I won't force you to see what I am. You'll always have something else in hand.

You'd say I'm getting worse. But you've only seen me rehearse to keep myself in line, putting my ghosts aside.

When there's headwind, I always seem to cry. Sadness is so easy to hide. But was there a reason for all of that after all? The thing is that I can't recall.

You'd say I'm getting worse. But you've only seen me rehearse to keep myself in line, putting my ghosts aside.