Misery's company is all you can share
as you add an empty bottle to the pile at your chair
saying "Life is meaningless, life is unfair."
You look me straight in the eye and tell me we're all gonna die.
You view the World through a screen in your head
A separate self cut off from the rest
You see everything living and think that it's dead
but tell me now what'll you do when the World looks right back at you?
So what is the self that you wanna be?
The Thinker? The Willer? The Watcher? The Beast?
A bundle of senses and anxieties?
The Doer of all to be done? The Player of games to be won?
'cause you look at yourself through a dark dirty mirror
waiting for something different to appear.
Will you sit there forever alone in your fear
or stand up from down on the floor, walk over and open the door?
I am not afraid of the weight of my body
I am not ashamed of being human
for surely what is born will return to the compost
but I do not think that is all that I am.
I could be the wind moving down through the valley,
I could be the sun looking down through the trees.
I could be the forest alive in tongues mouths and eyes
of a multitude of realities.
I am not alone in a cold dark cosmos,
I am just an atom of a much larger Self.
For surely what is born will return to the compost,
but the body that will rot is not all that I have.