Jan Blomqvist
The Six Degrees Theory
What have our mirrors known?
Our darkest reflection?
There’re eight billion telephones
Distorting connection
And I see ten thousand tongues tied
Slur words broke and poor or we
Are discreetly choking on all of our pride
Smug-slamming the door on me
You don’t know me
You don’t know me
You don’t know me
You don’t know me
You don’t know me
You don’t know me
You don’t know me
You don’t know me
Will music fade
Out the noise off my mind?
And why does the silence have always to wait
‘Till just the right time?
How can we start euthanizing
The constant need for our headlight staring?
Blank gaze behind eyes emphasizing
Can’t even act caring
You don’t know me
You don’t know me
You don’t know me
You don’t know me
You don’t know me
You don’t know me
You don’t know me
You don’t know me
You don’t know me