The Years, The Fears, The Sleep

Well you don't feel part of anything?
I'd say we all feel this way
I can't find it in my box of tapes, in sugar, milk and blood with tea
In this fresh cut master of all our new claims, or the coming summer parade
Kirkwood cat calls though a window, and all my attemps at security, they seem flights to other placesforcing songs and plays
Just get me through this then I'll change I'll change
Mary! Your new house is built concrete from all the years the fears the sleep
You found your way back to chicago
Pedaling help near Gaza
I heard that you lost your finger!
I hope that you found that next singer
Because
It's not what we made, it's what we will make!
So here's a spectacular send off!
I know that you'll make the best of!