High in the mountains, between Andorra and Marseille,
It came to me that on the 3rd of April, 2013
I wrote my name on a piece of paper(Not knowing why)
After 4 years dangling off the edge of a white cloud.
That note told me who I had been before these terrible dreams entered into my life.
Every time she met me, she never met me
Every time she said anything…after a few days.
She never said anything.
This was her world, her system, she was God.
And I was a dirty truth…or was I?
She told me she never met me, she doesn’t know me….or did she?
She suggested that maybe I am a made up figment of my own imagination in a reality that never took place.
All I had left was a note that read.
I can only thank the fact that I wrote a note, and on it I wrote my stupid name.
You can build a life, a universe and a whole bunch of Love with just a name.
But you need a name.
Always remember your name.