I'm in the back of a white van,
Don't ask me how I know,
I just do.

I think I've driven this van before,
The driver is inches away from the cliff edge,
I ask if he'll drive it off,
he responds, "That's up to you."
I don't understand what he means,
But the cliff seems to enticing to pass up,
The bottom is a mystery to be unfolded,
Even if there's nothing.

I'm in the back of a spray-painted black van,
Why don't you ask me how I know?
I spray-painted the van myself.

I know I've touched the steering wheel before,
The forest at the bottom of the cliff obstructs the end,
I order him to drive off the cliff,
he responds, "That's up to me."
I understand why he said what he said,
The end is something to stumble upon,
Not forced,
Even if there's nothing there.