who says

soft blue home
like rolling stones, like
self-redemption the skies rolled
on and on and i did, too
i couldn't bear the sight of a mirror
or you

(and to think, everyone else
so loved your eyes, your hair
you litter picture frames from tragic years)

i'm leaving, now
and it makes me sick
i'm leaving to stop me from doing that
but the ocean is one great mirror
and the plane can't turn around
and europe is so far away
will this really make me stronger?

they called me wendy
but i was the one who was lost
just because i once flew doesn't mean
i know my way
never, never again i keep saying
i can't, but i can
and it hurts to know that i need this
but it hurts more to wonder if that's really true