Clinging on like a koala to a tree
Won’t let go, can’t let go
’Cause life only makes sense
When you feign interest in someone else’s life
Is it love? they ask
Masking their own emptiness
An excuse to search outside
A perfect distraction for all the seasons
Is it love? they ask
A means to blame someone
For all those doubts and all that loneliness
A means to justify this random existence
Is it love? they ask
Must be,
I’ve fallen into it
And the noises have gone quiet
So I cling on to it like a koala to a tree
Won’t let go, can’t let go
But does it matter?
It does make it easier,
A facade, perhaps.
But some facades
They keep the heart beating
The kind of writing that shows up uninvited, barefoot, at 3 a.m.
