Track response. Slightly tangential response, but came to mind with respect to my own transitional stuckness. The lyrics are not specific but the vibe is right. The lyrics aren't all together nonspecific, but.... Blah! Blah...
I stare at my walls. 3 o'clock is my darkest hour. Layers of worth and worthlessness. A juxtaposition built over time. A time that has passed slowly and yet has slipped away so fast that I grieve the time lost.
It's impossible to free the quality stuff and preserve it as I peel away the unessential filth that has gathered and stuck to it like crud and dust and debris. It leaves you raw to remove it. Maybe the debris is my new armour. Perhaps it must remain if I am to remain intact.

and this... a self called nowhere.