I asked my fifth-grade teacher on the way out of school Friday afternoon, “What you got to teach me when you spend your whole life in this school?”
She said, “You’re nobody too. You’re nobody too. Think you got the answers but it turns out your nobody too.”
I asked the trooper with his bright lights on behind me, “Do your rules make you a decent man?”
He said, “I’m looking for the devil just to know for sure that I’m not him.
But you’re nobody too. You’re nobody too. Thought you’d have some answers but it turns out you’re nobody too.”
But if I could see your me. If I could see you’re me. If you could see your me. If you could see you’re me.
I’ll ask my maker when I go out if he’s waiting. I’ll dress my spirit in a coat and tie. I’ll make that bastard answer to the life I spent wondering why.
I’ll say, “.”
But if you could see your me. If I could see you’re me. If you could see your me. If you could see you’re me.
You’re nobody too. You’re nobody too. You’re nobody too. Thought you’d have the answers but it turns out you’re nobody too.