You Can't Stab Oprah to Death; She's Too Fat

We're all so disconnected

Actually, more like

Personal pulses created into a room of noises of rhythmless thought

Though, I thought you could hear it

The pulse that I get when you look at me with that way I pretended to look at myself in the mirror

Pretending it's you

The way my pulse goes when you would embrace me and my mind acts like it goes on forever

Well,

When two are in tune, you can't hear yourself

You blend together

Two pulses make one

Years passed though, yet

I thought I just heard you

A door slam downstairs

Passing of creaks in the attic

A lap of wind dashes through the house and touches my legs to create a batch of goosebumps

I just close my eyes

And hide

Close my eyes

Anticipate your arrival

All I can do is hear the pulse of mine

Maybe yours too?
Like they say

we're in tune

And the pulses beat to create one in harmony

Or maybe there's just one pulse alone, and all was just a misinterpretation.