Are we all so bound to our years of coming-of-age; did they ever end, is it just me?
I am intensely focused on the background radio, existing at that moment in a different universe than you, although you're seated not even an arm's length away from me.
I remember singing this, I don't remember identifying, not until just then, that morning, staring into my coffee.
I just want you to know who I am;
I just want you to know who I am