Here the merging lane escapes
when I look for a way out
of the dirty streets,
where the muck clings
and calls on my ambiguity,
every time I look at my feet
to make sure I'm heading the right way

I don't know where to live-
past, present, or future

No one sees my restlessness
under skin that barely hangs
from my fingers,
from a carefree illusion,
where there is no pursuing anything
and everything is mine

Let amnesia take me
if it'll take you too
and meet again when chance should choose
and see what comes of trial two

And would it end the same again
(can I say it's ended now?)
or would we apply to Darwinism,
in a continuous loop,
recycling ourselves into perfection,
and truly living for the first time
with happiness in our back pockets,
and memories in every step,
as the skin hangs from our faces
more than barely,
when we're old