Is that me?

As I slowly lift the mirror,

I can't help a thrill of fear,

Who the hell is she?

Oh my god, is that me?

With my face towards the floor and elbows on my thighs,

A cascade of it is falling, like my life, before my eyes.

I feel the razor thrumming as it slides against my cheek,

I'll have the shortest haircut of anyone this week!

As I slowly lift the mirror,

I can't help a thrill of fear,

Who the hell is she?

Oh my god, is that me?

I shake my buzzèd head back and forth,

Ah, the liberation from hair, what is it worth?

I'd pay a hundred dollars in bills and in cents,

For what I got today, and Zilch is what I spent!

As I slowly lift the mirror,

I can't help a thrill of fear,

Who the hell is she?

Oh my god, is that me?

As my dad just grazes my ear,

I slightly shed a tiny tear,

But hell, I don't really care,

Cause he just shaved my hair!

As I slowly lift the mirror,

I can't help a thrill of fear,

Who the hell is she?

Oh my god, is that me?

My dream

It was a dream.

Only a dream, I tell myself.

Or was it?

Was it a whispering of things yet to come?

The voice of the Ether, saying,

Yes, this shall be.

Will these things come to pass?

Or have they already gone by?

These sights, remembered in my waking moment,

Making me smile,

Will I ever see them out of my mind's eye?

After all, it seemed, smelt, felt so real.

The shadows, the cars, the smile on my sleeping face.

Can it be untrue?

Yes, it could, for it was just a dream.

But a good dream.

Why?

Why, one may ask, does the Earth spin round?
Why do things never fall up, always fall down?
Why are trees green, why do they grow?
Why, one might ask, do you want to know?

Why is rain wet, the desert dry?
Why is it that fish can never fly?
Why does a joke make you smile?
Why would joy make you hum all the while?

Why is the sun the of a golden hue?
Why is the night sky black and the daytime blue?
Why do the rivers flow down to the sea?
Why, oh why, don't you love me?