Does it ever unnerve you to think, at night, at home
That despite the innumerable odds for life elsewhere
We are, or to the extent of our knowledge, all alone?
This I find, is nearly too much at times to bear

Does it ever unnerve you to think, at night, in bed
That despite the billions of people on this earth
You rarely meet new people, because of all you left unsaid?
Due to some misplaced, and wrong sense of self worth?

Does it ever unnerve you to think, at dusk, at home
That despite both the innumerable odds for life elsewhere
And the billions of people on this earth, we still feel alone?