Wake up early, in deaf silence,
the sound of rushing water comforts me,
stand with my hands against cold tile,
hanging my head, feeding the fire of that belief:
I am insignificant,
I am insignificant,
in the mass amount of time that blue dot turns,
I am insignificant.
and on the comfort of moon-lit porches,
howling songs at the moon,
that guitar screeching like tires,
just slightly out of tune,
and it sings:
I am insignificant,
I am insignificant,
unless I make a choice to make a difference,
I am insignificant.
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