Proposals

Let's get one thing straight
We don't have any answers
We are proposals in a cosmic nursery
And these massive stars
They're just little twinkles
If I can't possess them at such magnificence
So if you can really hear me
And you really think you believe me
There must be some kind of privilege here
To putter around with such an existence
You see me on some stage
And you believe it's really me over there
There's a chance it's not really me
Maybe we're not ourselves at all
And maybe being is simply believing
That each breath we take in
Must lead to another breath out
One more breath away from yesterday
And a timeline of yesterdays
Filled in with love or with pain
Or whatever bullshit we smear on our sleeves
I've found my cause, and this is it
There are no answers

Am I what I am?
Am I what I am?
Is that what this is?
Is this all there is?