Must you be away from me? It’s self-inflicted quarantine. I think about you constantly. Why must you be away from me? At the end of each work day you’re still three thousand miles away. Why is it that what I do doesn’t include being with you? The one thing that I most adore isn’t nearly what I wake up for. I should quit and drive across this land and take you away to start a band, and take you away to take your hand.