We’ve updated our Terms of Use to reflect our new entity name and address. You can review the changes here.
We’ve updated our Terms of Use. You can review the changes here.

You, Me, and Everyone We Know

from Poetry Collection - 01 by Cody Weber

supported by
/

lyrics

WHO ARE YOU?

Life, when spoken through the tongue and scope of someone living is always inherently skewed. Even the faults that we’re aware of in life are romanticized -- either that, or they are blown out of proportion entirely.
What is this sense of self; is it all an illusion limited by our naive grasp of environment, further stifled by our senses that only present a small scope of the universe at a time? For instance, I love the way the sun rises in the morning and turns the entire sky a vibrant shade of orange for a short while, but is that really how the sky looks? How many colors am I not seeing? How many skin particles are floating right in front of my eyes, that old sense of self dissipating back into the atmosphere? Consciousness is limited by the things we are able to experience, but that’s not what is truly happening. What does that say about life exactly?

Life is fleeting, and because of that, it tends to embrace another illusory concept: separation. In truth, I believe we are all of one consciousness. I understand that is new-age bullshit, but I really do believe it. The ideals that confine and isolate us are truly irrelevant in the grand scope of things. Countries build bombs and strong-arm third world countries to maintain their power grasp. This happens every day, and it occurs with the complete knowledge that all the money we waste killing people could be used to help them instead. Everything in the world is dictated by illusion, in this case the invisible lines of culture, but it all boils down to that irrational lack of understanding. We are no different than that sun that rises over the horizon in the morning. We are made different by the inconsequential. Religion, sex, race, social status – the list is truly endless. But we’re all apes, we’re still evolving, and we’re all made from the same collision of stars and gas. Everything that exists – from a tree, to a rock, to a puppy, to a human being is truly the result of natural phenomena. It’s the lesser evolved center in all of us that embrace this separation. We are all one people and we’re all floating aimlessly on a rock mostly made of undrinkable water. The eternal struggle between the universe and the sense of self is a product of our inability to grasp that it’s all in our heads. Self is an illusion. We are biological machines.

I think that’s beautiful and scary at the same time.

So who am I? Is the nuance truly important? How many people feel the same way I do about everything? There are billions and billions of people on this planet right now; surely some of them have the same mental make-up as I do. How many people don’t? Who cares? I see life as a revolving door of consequence. Nobody really has a plan, we’re all winging it, and everyone is just as confused as I am. They are just as lost and afraid. Some people can delude themselves and others can just hide it better. That doesn’t change anything though.
I enjoy music with my ears. What separates me from other people is the style, the tone, and the inspiration I get from certain songs. Does that really make me any different than somebody who is affected by Justin Bieber or any of his teenage counterparts? Not really. At the core, we’re both still being affected.

I enjoy taking photographs, probably because it gives me a gauge on my time here on earth. But what exactly is time? There is no such thing as yesterday, even though I have skeletons in my closet that I don’t believe I’ll ever truly transcend. Yesterday doesn’t exist. It might as well never have existed in the first place. The common theory is that time equals wisdom, but I think that’s false. Becoming concrete in your experience does not transcend the fundamental human condition. It doesn’t equal maturity or wisdom, it just means you’ve been here longer. The future scares the shit out of me because it’s not linear. It’s a tree with six-hundred-and-thirty-thousand different limbs. Tomorrow will be the start of the rest of my life. Today will be made irrelevant, it will turn into yesterday. They are both illusions. The only thing that truly exists is this moment, right here, right now.
I type this from a dirty bedroom that reminds me constantly that I’m a total slob. It’ll be cleaned eventually, though, and what I am looking at now will disappear completely. I am the same as this room. This room is the same as me. Everything is in a perpetual state of shift until something destroys it. Eventually I will die and rot in black, Iowan soil. Everybody I have ever known, ever loved, ever felt in a warm embrace – will die. The memory of me will be tainted and eventually lost within the cosmos forever.

We live in a cold and uncaring universe. We are all truly alone. But you know what? That’s okay. Bask in the delusion and enjoy your fucking life! Enjoy what you can make of it, what you can grasp and feel. Enjoy that morning light as it appears to rise, but know that we’re the ones spinning. Quit separating yourself by the irrelevant. We are the same. We are not real. We will end.

I think that’s beautiful and scary at the same time.

-- March 7th, 2011

credits

from Poetry Collection - 01, released February 7, 2012
Cody Weber

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

Wren Iowa

The official discography of Cody Weber's electronic project, WREN.

contact / help

Contact Wren

Streaming and
Download help

Redeem code

Report this track or account

If you like Wren, you may also like: