With the lights down low

After the afterglow

Just the whistling wind in our ears

Memory is past

We relive the aftermath

I leave my to-do list in the sand

So when the day is long

Take care to carry on

Even deserts bloom, even waters pile up

Reference point

Referencing my own thankfully anonymous thoughts

Painted on days like these

A haiku, the archery, and the drawing of flowers

Reference point

Rеferencing my own shamefully еconomist thoughts

Written on years like rocks

Collected by babes on the beach

Sushi, late nights, and the wasting of hours

Is it real? Is it fake?

Is it all just a phase?

And is it over? And is it okay?

Do we know if there's any other way?

Am I useful? Am I sane?

Am I a bird in a gilded cage?

Am I supposed to be feeling this way?

And are we just throwing it all down the drain?

Am I real? Is it fake? (Is it real? Is it real?)

Is it all just a phase? (Is it real? Is it real?)

Is it over? Is it okay? (Is it real? Is it real?)

Do we know if there's any other, any other way?

Am I useful? Am I insane? (Is it real? Is it real?)

Am I a bird in a gilded cage? (Is it real? Send it down the drain!)

And are we joking? Are we broken? (Is it real? Down the drain!)

Am I supposed to be, supposed to be feeling this way?