How does the moon feel in the bright light of day?
Or that kid on the bench that really wants to play?
Or my ball point pen when I can’t write for shit?
Or my New Year’s resolutions when February hits?
When my Bible gets dusty ‘cuz I’m holier than thou,
Does it feel as worthless as an un-milked cow?
Do waffle cones hate it when the scoops start to melt?
And do airbags have beef with neglected seat belts?
What makes the heavy cloud finally open up and pour?
How golden was the opportunity behind that closed door?
How does the truth feel when it’s trapped in our heart?
And do our bashful burps simply turn into farts?
Does my comb feel burdened by my nappy ass hair?
Or my shoes still in boxes, too expensive to wear?
Why do bananas go brown that we forget to peel?
It’s the silentest seconds that prove how we feel.
Why do we wake up just before the alarm rings?
Then get out of bed and forget all our dreams?
What makes a caterpillar grow wings and fly?
And how many different ways can you slice up the pie?
Why does dust gather on my window pane?
How do people’s ears burn when we mention their name?
How many teeth does it take to fake a smile?
And how many feet are in the extra mile?
What’s so lucky about 4-leaf clovers?
And would the world need saving if we were all sober?
Do things really happen just as they should?
Or do we just not understand consequences all that good?
Who invented the clock, and what time was it then?
Is simply not losing the same as a win?
How do hedonists feel right after their thrill?
It’s the quietest questions that give us the chills.