I know this girl. Her name is Z(ee). She completes me in ways that only we understand. She has grown frail and weak. Oh, flotsam...? It (he, I) is (am) in her heart. I can not help her. none of us can help her. She is empty. She has a longing she can't fill. She needs to come home. She needs to dance (dance, dance...). There is no life left.
There is everything here for her.
Come home, Zee. Come home. We are here for you. We will spoon-feed you and dress your wounds. We'll build you wings and help you fly again.
There is hope. Faith? We are blind.
There is nothing left to see. I can give you words. You can form pictures. This part of you has not been tampered with. Do not be defeated. This is how we live, day-to-day. You mew at me with a soft tongue about how things hurt. You try not to be a bother, but you plead. Get off your knees, love. You know i'd give the world for you not to feel anything. It's your longing, your bliss and savior.
I want to take a train. "Train, train. Take us away. Take us away. To the future we will go. Where it stops, nobody knows."
...to the Cities of the Future perhaps. :)
Haha, Flordia holds my future? Who knows.