Time goes by, butterflies shift.
I can't deal with the shifts.
I can't make up my mind.
Am I still myself?
Waking up same place, new day.
New clothes? No cigarettes? Where the hell is my lighter?!
I wish that when I shut my eyes all the world would drop dead, making life reform when I lift my lids again.
But like Plath, I think I made you up inside my head.
No, I don't remember shit!
If I did, consider it faith.
I hope to never come across you.
I can sleep this nightmare away.
Open my eyes, all will be born again.
...Did I make you up inside my head?