These Trees

I’ve seen you standing overshadowed, overcast it’s raining in your head
I know it’s hard to think through the pitter and patter clouding what you’re
after when you seek it
Get out, go home to where your needed, where your love resides--or is it
raining in your heart?
I know it’s hard to think when you’re starting to question the things you
thought you’ve already answered
But me, who am I to give advice?
Cause' I feel the same
Is it such a crime that I don’t know what I’m doing with my own time,
that I don’t know what I’m doing with my life?
I’ve seen the hands they keep on turning but the fact remains that I’m still
sitting here
And now, it’s dark and I can feel it slowly creeping in--is it best that I
should try to go to sleep now?
But you, who are you to give advice?
Cause we feel the same
Is it such a crime that we don’t know what we’re doing with our own time,
that we don’t know what we’re doing with our lives?