We chase the shadows in our head,
the shapeless grey overcast of something missing,
scabby, peeling, dying, something is wrong inside
that we can’t figure out.
We need more exercise, or more sleep, or less love, or more love,
or more alcohol, or less alcohol, there is always some obscure thing
eclipsing our happiness
and we chase it like it is not a product of ourselves,
We chase the shadows in our head
until the sun goes down,
and our breath gives out,
and we can’t even remember
what we were hounding after in the first place.
helpless in our state
making eyes at the stars that radiate,
wondering when they’ll burn out
and if they’ll ever make our wishes truer,
What is it that’s keeping us from being happy?
What are the shadows tempting us for?
Shadows move when we do,
and we never catch up.
And if we could time wouldn’t work,
And the sun would still set,
and at the end of the night we still
wouldn’t know what we were doing.