When my very body's a proof of that?
With every slight adjustment of how I sit,
I've reached a position that I've never been at.
The air rushes into my lungs and changes me forever,
From the body that took the air from the past.
Small things, I know not, attach and detach themselves from me.
A stomping ground always shows the prints of its last.
Like a waterfall, the elements wash over me,
To make the skin that clings to my skeleton,
My hair, my fat, the things that literally fall off,
You know, I'm not even the same person.
And it's alright,
If you think that you still know me,
You may as well assume everyone's the same.
From their head all the way to how they think.
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