All my words are hollow
They echo inside
Like ting ting ting
They roll off my tongue
And sound good placed together
They are the shadow of real things
Just gray shapes with no real detail
A sight for the starer
But just a glace for the searcher
All my words
They barely cast shadows of their own
Because they are made out of nothing
Candy floss for the reader
Bubbles for the thinker
Pop, gone, pop, nothing
All my words
Have no thought
That is why they get none in return
Thoughts are formed of ideas and concepts and lingering things
Thinking is for the thinking man
Thoughtless things
Are not even things at all
They are just words on paper
Word from a tongue
That soon returns to air, and dust and hollow stuff
Nothing to become nothing
Think about it...
Nothing is nothing, right?