Reference Point

With the lights down low After the afterglow Just the whistling wind in our ears Memory is past We relive the aftermath I leave my to-do list in the sand So when the day is long Take care to carry on Even deserts bloom, even waters pile up Reference point Referencing my own thankfully anonymous thoughts Painted on days like these A haiku, the archery, and the drawing of flowers Reference point Rеferencing my own shamefully еconomist thoughts Written on years like rocks Collected by babes on the beach Sushi, late nights, and the wasting of hours Is it real? Is it fake? Is it all just a phase? And is it over? And is it okay? Do we know if there's any other way? Am I useful? Am I sane? Am I a bird in a gilded cage? Am I supposed to be feeling this way? And are we just throwing it all down the drain? Am I real? Is it fake? (Is it real? Is it real?) Is it all just a phase? (Is it real? Is it real?) Is it over? Is it okay? (Is it real? Is it real?) Do we know if there's any other, any other way? Am I useful? Am I insane? (Is it real? Is it real?) Am I a bird in a gilded cage? (Is it real? Send it down the drain!) And are we joking? Are we broken? (Is it real? Down the drain!) Am I supposed to be, supposed to be feeling this way?