I can only see one second at a time
Only one microcosmic atom of relevance at any given point of spark
But I keep trying to make all of it make sense
There’s nothing out there that isn’t in me. I am the savior and the enemy.
I don’t understand rape or wealth or souls…
I don’t understand religion or pop music or ebola…
But here it all is, here we all are and I can’t connect the puzzle pieces
because I am too small
This I can see all of the time, for 100 percent of my existence
My irrelevance, my incompleteness, my usual insecurities
There’s nothing out there that isn’t in me. I am the cause and the remedy.
So should I search for the point of view that hovers over reality
Should I keep trying to comprehend taxes and togas and tripping balls
or should I just sit here quietly and let it all float by as I love you intensely until the day that I die?
I can only see a half a second after anything happens
what I am allowed to perceive that it was
But I keep trying to make all of it make sense when as far as I can tell
There’s nothing out there that isn’t in me. I am the pleasure and the pain.
Do you want to watch the end of mankind with me, over a bottle of fancy wine in the rain?