From a moving window there are cities I will never visit Blurry lights along the highway going around It's funny how we bounce all over Wandering on new locations Telling ourselves things were different when we're not here There is nothing to it and I'm thinking Who is dreaming and who is distracted There is nothing to it and I wonder Why it is I don't know how to feel Watching from a moving window people walk in both directions Some are holding bags and smoking, looking at their phones Others waiting for the bus to come and take them where they stay or maybe to someone they love How c0uld one tell? From a moving window I've been everywhere and yet there's nothing worthy as a mind that's drifting I am not here