How Many of Us?

Are these songs and notes and noises even mine?

Or do they fall from me and down a drain one drop at a time?

How many noises went unheard in the forest?

How many more until a few chirps became a chorus, and how many of those until they ain't do nuthin for us?

How many words can be spoke of, before you choke on the words already spoke once from somebody you never heard of?

How many words until adjective turns to verb and I'm red stabbing into murder with a weapon you've never heard of?

Were all supposed to be so different?

How many of you have a verse or an instrument?

How many tunes and versions do you think we can implement?

And how many of you DID we screw out of millions just to get a hit?!

Here's the clincher kid : "who gives a shit?"

You've seen it before but didnt know where the picture was

Taken by somebody you've never heard of.

So much left to say that I had to leave to say it

I'll be right here recording even if you never play it.

I was in the shower when I had the startling realization that once I die, I part ways with everything AND my music. I saw a million versions of myself in those little droplets. I saw myself trying to be the loudest droplet of water and how futile that idea seemed.

Then I started writing this.