But it's not really me talking
I move 'round
But it's not really me walking
What is it really?
Real, what is that?
When there's no imprint on the chair where I sat?
If nobody sees Does it really exist?
Did it really happen, the event that was missed?
Does my love for you impact at all
If you never hear me call
This continuity of travels from
The real to imaginate me
Is discouraging me from accepting
The world as it is
Was there something I missed?
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