Xeroma

There’s an eyelash on the bed
I don’t remember what was said
But it was something, it was something, it was something
Sunday morning rain, she started to cry
Said that she was ready to die
Like it was nothing, it was nothing, it was nothing
Asked her who she was
In hopes to spark a cause
The tears kept falling, tears kept falling, tears kept falling
The confusion, an illusion or a hologram
I told her, I still wonder who I am
Is this my calling, is this my calling, is this my calling
I found peace in the paradox
That the thinker is the same as the thought
I have no answers, have no answers, have no answers