Head to the glass and the glass to the rain. That streetlight glare is stretching out like strings tied to points on a map, and it's always leading me home.

(The clock on the dashboard goes tick-tock) Count the hours of sleep I'll get, and its burned into my skull. (Close your eyes open them, welcome back) Shed my guitar and drift away, I'm staying in next weekend.

Are you awake? Are you awake? Are you awake? Do you dream of alarms?
Are you awake? Are you awake? Are you awake? Do you know who you are?
Are you awake? Are you awake? Are you awake? It doesn't matter, catch your train.
Are you awake? Are you awake? Are you awake? Drink your coffee get to work.

My vision starts to pixilate, and my skin it's turned to wax paper. The coffee starts to do its job, and that's more than I can say about me.

(The clock on the dashboard foes tick-tock) Count the hours 'til five o'clock, and it's burned into my skull. (Close your eyes, open them welcome back) Blank my mind, straighten my tie, I'm staying in next weekend.

It's been along time since I've seen soft blue mountains on the horizon, or stood at the edge of a pine-beach forest and felt the ocean at my feet. It's been a long time since I stayed up all night to chase the sunrise, or seen a skyscraper I don't know by name.

So where do I go from here, and how do I get there?

I don't want to let that concrete set on my feet. I don't want to get stuck anywhere.