My vision has been cleared these past few days
I see the blemishes and shudder
I question why I walked upon this desolate, scarred ground for so long
There is no longer a magnetizing devotion pulling me toward what I once thought was my future
Instead, I see how much has changed
Or has it?
Was I simply blinded by my own desperate hopes that I dared not look upon the prideful and condescending gaze?
I suppose every one is changing now
We all want plastic faces and new haircuts
She wants to go by her middle name now
And he wants to stop wearing shoes
So what do I want?
With this clean slate in front of me, what do I desire?
Who will be the new me?
The person I won't recognize, but cling to nonetheless
I suppose I'll stop believing in God now
Start breathing in the new theories and become a philosopher
I'll lose sight of every friend I once had
Change my favorite color to some green color that paints some kind of organic food
But that's not who I am
And if I do those things, then I cannot claim to have clear vision.
I'll see only smoke
I'll be dead
So who are you now?
Who is this new person that I cannot recognize?
Who is this rigid structure of stone?
Will you answer?
I suppose you're just dead.
