Gatsby

We didn't break even

Now our fruit is out of season

And I don't know how to balance it all out

Could I fly if I would let myself

If I fall could I catch someone else

Or would I just be longing for what I'd let go of

I wonder and wonder, I turn the pages on this hunger

Reach a new conclusion every single time

In twenty years from now will I be standing on the docks

Still waiting for your green light