So come the summer I wilt, I am a shadow and I slide over borders like loose leaves on the last of the breeze. So if yr lying awake, (and noone sleeps in this heat) I’ve got this memory of some place I swear I’ve never been. So I’m calling it a dream, or something inbetween. Like fantasy, just an island shy, when I close my eyes, there’s the shore, there’s the sky, and there’s you. I guess we’re never alone, we speak through satellites and I trip over timezones whenever I get pictures from you. So is yr view worth the rent? (are you not sleeping again?) I’ve got this memory of some place I swear I’ve never been. And I’m taking us back, off the map. Like fantasy, just a wifi beach, when I cover my eyes, there’s the tide, there’s the breeze, and there’s you.