| You severed the stone intently thrown
|
| At the bird in the alley tucked back behind St. Joe’s
|
| Half for the windshield of the car across the steet
|
| The other half lost to the void like the feeling I had back then
|
| Do you feel this same thing that I do?
|
| Do you feel this same thing that I do?
|
| Mono no aware
|
| Feel this same thing that I do
|
| Mono no aware
|
| Feel this same thing that I do
|
| You thought up a poor lie to veil how the bird died when adults came by
|
| And questioned us in the office kids went to in the worst of times
|
| That was before you brought me down to the basement
|
| Where a part of me is lost to the void like the feeling I had back then
|
| Do you feel this same thing that I do?
|
| Do you feel this same thing that I do?
|
| Mono no aware
|
| Feel this same thing that I do
|
| Mono no aware
|
| Feel this same thing that I do
|
| I think I’m doing okay these days
|
| It’s just the pathos of all things
|
| I called you up just so I could say
|
| It will be here even if you’re not
|
| It will be here even if I’m not
|
| Do you feel this same thing that I do?
|
| Do you feel this same thing that I do?
|
| Do you feel this same thing that I do?
|
| Do you feel this same thing that I do?
|
| Mono no aware
|
| Feel this same thing that I do
|
| Mono no aware
|
| Feel this same thing that I do
|
| Remember how I brought up Marguerite’s hands
|
| To illustrate the flesh we ate back then?
|
| When grandma slowly faded from Alzheimer’s
|
| Like a lifeless steak in that empty diner
|
| It now reminds me of my failing grasp
|
| Of the present, memory, self, and past
|
| It now reminds me of my failing grasp
|
| Of the present, memory, self, and past |