In the front of backward dreams I can see myself at ease, with a plan And the validation I won't ever get Seems all too real And then a love I don't yet know Smiles and holds my face But every time the vision goes I find another empty place Like a writer out of steam When he goes to ask the stream for a line I'm forever caught in hopeful hopelessness That leaves me dry So then I overthink my pose For my cover page But every time the camera goes I find another empty place And as I stand before the mirror And pretend to speak The fingerprints and stains grow clearer While the faucet runs beneath I want to know what I can't see I want to know what I can believe