I often ask myself
why I do the things I do
Is it because
it's me and not you
Could it be the fact that we are all not the same?
Metaphorically speaking,
there can only be one pitcher, pitching
in a baseball game
Why am I here
To whom do i hold dear
Are we living in fear
Is the end coming near
What's wrong and what's right
Who's black and what is white
Do we really have to fight
Why leave
in the middle of the night
I laugh and think
Why do i think of the most craziest things
Why fall in love
could it be just a little fling
Am I tripping
or does the heart really sing
Why do I find myself
waking up from a bad dream
Is it because
things are not what it really seems
Why can't I get lucky
and take one for the team
One question remains
On the other side
is the grass really green
Why do we find ourselves in a bind
Why do I feel
I'm losing my mind
Why is love
so hard to find
Why can't he be
one of a kind
Why do we often have to choose
who wins and who lose
Why do that lady sing the blues
Why all these questions
and not too many clues
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