I've never felt the touch of the city as coldly as I do now, looking back All of the skyscrapers and gray roads and walls of concrete loom over my head like its pushing me down And I said I would take the records everywhere And songs of the spring soon became tied to the cold And I said I would call you every week, anywhere But my voice is buried within me, deeper than my bones And if I knew I would have become so meek and quiet here I don't know when I would have ever left home And now that I'm standing, looking out on gray waters I wonder; when did my life become so monotone? When did I become less eccentric, what's left of the life I owned? I stare down a bluebird and remember the days and nights where I colored the scenes like his wings in the sky And I promised that I would take a piece of you everywhere, but I do regret taking us to a desolate plain. If I ever had to will to wish upon a star again, I'd wish for my sparkle back, for I've lost myself again.