You went outta sight, you got lost into the city, got lost into the night.
How badly do I want to help you. It's war with you and your family. It's home in your car. It's friends who can offer you a bed for a few nights, and company to drown your sorrows with the dim light of the bar. It's a pile of shirts that need cleaned, or the newspaper you use as a tray. It's a tentaive knock and wait at the door for it to be answered, at the house that used to be your home. You no longer have a key to our home, you no longer have access to our lives. You get snippets, slideshows, snapshots, summaries, and generalised comments. Vulnerability creeps in when you sleep, I see it on your face. I hear it on your raspy breathing. I see it in your hunched and folded body trying to keep the heat in. I want to help you fulfill your dreams of underfloor heating designs and TV cards. I want you to have all that you deserve.