For he was a petal, what was he?
He was just a part of the flower.
For he was just a brick, what was he?
Just sandwiched between; for the tower.
When he was born, died he know what species was he?
Why then he cried, when he came out of the womb, wasn't he free?
But then, one petal lost, was rejected by the bouquet maker.
One brick, killed a man, was thrown in the mass, by a hater.
What changed? Who knew? Who made our thoughts?
Who loved? Who lived? Who fed the one who rots?
How thoughts come in the brain?
Who moves, the trees or the train?
How much can be called "some"?
How big can be a crumb?
Who makes the rules?
Who decides we are clever or fools?
Who divides ammo from tools?
Who. And why? And how could it think?
When we don't even realse, when we blink.
Its all fickle, you're all insane.
Its all a mirage, its just me, and my game.
You don't exist, no one does.
Its all in my mind, like an eternal buzz...
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