There was one back home
Who treated me well
Their name escapes me now
There was one back home
Who listened to me
Their face fell out of my head
I wish sometimes that I was the one
With the words to describe what I'm feeling
But the last one to witness my best side
Was a spider who died on my ceiling
There was a face in the crowd
I recognized
Who I once tried to escape
There was a face that went
With the man up front
But that wasn't the shape
Was I followed or was I to blame
Why'd the grief never fall out of me
Was I eaten by my imagination
And regrets followed at the apogee