Track Nine. Thank you to everyone that was a part of this. You know who you are.
All along the surface, I wave my hand
and quietly, deliberately ask and then answer myself
if this is all that there is, and I'm pretty sure that it is,
Consciousness trapped in our heads.
These ripples never ever intersect, and so we are not made of water.
I'm really not resigned to a single description of life, I'm not sure I can push this much further.
Speak up please cause I can't make out your voice,
cuts short and it falls apart.
Try to breathe and stop moving,
I need you please to try and calm your head down.
Slow your pace, wait for the hate to dissipate and then recede,
the colors bleed, could you stop moving?
Your eyes catch the light as they start to freeze.
These curtains never even touch the floor, and so we might as well cut them down.
This light is all that exists of me, silhouettes, black and white sounds.
All along the surface, it never quite sits still
long enough to notice if it can tell that I'm there.
This is just all that there is.
And I am not letting it go (it's like confidence draped over our heads).
I sing the same three lines all day long over and over,
I sing the same three lines trying to locate some closure,
or maybe just to catch sight of distant, effortless composure.