10,000 LAKES

I am a countdown,
I am a goodbye,
and I am leaving.

I have gold in my hair,
between my finger nails.
I stole it from the last boy's eyes.
This is no gold rush.

I am a paper chain,
I am the break up,
and I am leaving.

I am trading mountains,
for flatlands,
I am leaving.

The land of ten thousand lakes,
is calling my name,
and you know I am tired of
fool's gold
and uphill both ways.

Because you
you are a lombard street lover,
and I am not a tourist.

I am an hourglass,
I am a wave goodbye,
and I am leaving.