Little mysteries plucked from daily life
In the curve of a shell in the path of a kite
Mysteries can be solved what’s the meaning of this?
What’s that on the floor? It’s a broken dish
You won’t see it hop up collect itself
On the tabletop or the kitchen shelf
Entropy has won as it always will
There’s a law for that it’s been known to kill
Disorder is on the rise again I cut my finger
But you won’t see the blood go back in
If this universe started to contract
Would we fall up the stairs? Would we be sent back
To a time that we had no memory of?
Even though we’d been there we’d been there once before
Pulling bites of French toast out my mouth
Reassemble my breakfast watch me spit it out

I’m a gluey ball I’m a ball of string
I’m an antipart I’m an everything
If you think that you thought so therefore you were
You forgot that your thoughts aren’t yours so you’re not
Have I been so blessed or have I been cursed?
Is this the gift that keeps on taking the worst?
Or do I belong to a terrible club
Of people who believe everything they dream up?
And if you think that there’s more than just the words that I’ve said
You will find out that there’s not when you are finally dead
If this universe started to contract
Would we fall up the stairs? Would I be sent back
To the time I got sick and I had to leave
My apartment and live with my family?
Would I then get back every "wasted" year?
Would my eyes like magnets attract my tears?