At some point we’ll wake up scattered to our being
Struggling to know as we circulate what’s real
Nurse says our thoughts reflect the things we’re seeing
Questioning the truth to which we cling
We float in space but rarely constellate each other
At some point we’ll wake up scattered to our being
We seek refuge in the unknown when grieving
I used to wonder who would guide my fate
Nurse says our thoughts reflect the things we’re seeing