Driving
In our little tin boxes
Walking around in our purpose built bodies
Thinking
strung out in our heads
Everything we see
Touch
Smell
Arriving through the filter
Of us
In the end
The only things we truly own
Are what we say
What we do
What we’ve done
And the voice in our head
That it all comes through
And never shuts up
Till we’re dead
It houses our truth
As we see it
What lives we could have led
If not for the voice
In our head
That said we couldn’t
Shouldn’t
Mustn’t
Wouldn’t
And in the end
It’s just some damn voice
In our heads
