The rain pours down in torrents
as lightning illuminates the sky in New York City
It's 4 AM and I'm standing in the doorway of my building
smoking a cigarette, watching the occasional car go by

I'm too old to be doing this
but I have a self-indulgent streak
The real indulgence is simply being alone
Are you searching for answers in your life?
Looking for a way to make sense of it all?
to find meaning in who you are
what you do, why you're here?

Don't

Searching is futile
Utterly worthless
Answers will come when you're ready for them
Or maybe they won't
Regardless, eight billion people don't give a shit
and that's a point that may be worth keeping in mind

Most people sooner or later find a way
to be comfortable in their own skin
and very few of them
sit down and formulate a system of beliefs

You're not going to find a book that will offer you clarity
or focus
Nobody is going to come down from a mountaintop with stone tablets
that contain the secret of life
There is no secret of life

I'm safe and dry upstairs now
Soon I'll put down the pen and go to bed
My thoughts are still downstairs though
in the doorway
all alone on a darkened street

I'd like this song to remain alone, as well
forgotten, because that's the way the world really is
But this is the stark reality
your life, as well as mine
will touch relatively very few people
and you and I will quickly be forgotten