whatever happened to my story
did I tell it one too many times?
I began to notice you were gone, I was still talking
am I talking just to ease my mind?
I always thought that I was listening to you
just because I left a space
I wound my eyes around the movement of your lips
but all of the words they were misplaced

maybe i've a simple mind, but all that I can find
are patterns like the moon's changing face
and it appears to me, that everything we see
is repeated a different time and place

my bad ideas are my undoing
I find a new one everyday
I see the ending come before the thing begins
and still I never look away

maybe i've a simple mind, but all that I can find
are patterns like the moon's changing face
and it appears to me, that everything we see
is repeated a different time and place