Everything is falling,
the leaves, the snowflakes, the dust;
And I just stare through these broken panes,
as my bones decay and rust.
I see a couple walking hand in hand,
it's young love in full bloom;
Just living in the here and now,
and shunning all impending doom.
Two dogs are humping in the park,
while their owners stop and stare;
"That could be us," the young man says,
but the woman acts like she's not aware.
A bird slams into my picture window,
and is dead before he hits the ground;
Oh why, oh why, could that not be me,
or does that seem just too unsound.
I pull the shades down slowly,
and quietly lean back in my chair;
I think there's something I'm supposed to do,
but all I can do is stare.