Speaking of the things I lost somewhere, I haven't wrote a song in years. At least not the kind I used to write— the kind that had meaning and heart inside. So I'm left to ask myself: what have I been doing? Besides riding off of the minor successes of high school bands, desperately holding on to memories I have. Of driving home in my dad's van late at night from Michigan— of the way the wind passes through your hair as you... Speaking of the things I lost somewhere, I haven't had a voice in years. Anymore dust comes out when I scream loud and I'm left