From a moving window there are cities I will never visit
Blurry lights along the highway going around
It's funny how we bounce all over
Wandering on new locations
Telling ourselves things were different when we're not here
There is nothing to it and I'm thinking
who is dreaming and who is distracted
There is nothing to it and I wonder
why it is I don't know how to feel
Watching from a moving window people walk in both directions
Some are holding bags and smoking, looking at their phones
Others waiting for the bus to come and take them where they stay or maybe to someone they love
How c0uld one tell?
From a moving window I've been everywhere and yet there's nothing worthy as a mind that's drifting
I am not here