Oh, The Thought Of. . .
So I'm sitting in a corner,
Thinking about life and death.
That the only difference between them,
Is the shortage of one breath.
And I'm lying on the floor.
Thinking about love and hate.
That between them is a line.
Which is simple, short and straight.
Now, I'm walking back and forth.
Thinking about day and night.
That the only thing unshared,
Is the brightness of one light.
Then that leads to running 'round.
Thinking about Heaven and Hell.
That the clear distinction here
Is something no one knows too well.
So now I'm sitting down,
Thinking about right and wrong.
That the way they differ is,
The will of the weak and strong.
At last I fall asleep,
Thinking about you and me.
How nothing is between us,
And how we fit so evenly.
But then I wake (up) again,
And think of you and I,
How there's nothing between us,
Not hello, nor goodbye.
So I sit again in a corner,
And think of this once more.
Until I end up fixing us,
And the thought I thought before.
And as I fall asleep again,
I think of me and you.
And how maybe out there--
--Somewhere
You might be thinking too.
♠ ♠ ♠
Ed.