She is me, not me (Remix)

The one reflected in the mirror is not me. Only the movement of her eyes lags slightly behind. She is me, not me. Is it real or fake? The real me is somewhere in another world, and in this room only empty shells are lined up neatly. The room without you is too clean. The quiet hum of the air conditioner has lost its way. I light the cigarette you forgot. The night draws a little closer. She is me, not me. Is it real or fake? The expressway is an endless wave of headlights. White lines overlap, and time itself is flowing. The smoke I exhale slowly turns into a spiral. Its outline is vague, yet I know it is me. Inside the smoke a face is born, then collapses again. Existence lasts only a moment. She is me, not me. Is it real or fake? When I point at the sky, for no reason at all, snow begins to fall. The city loses its sound. In that instant I can see every vortex. The north wind blows, and tomorrow will be colder. It keeps repeating— a sharply defined déjà vu. “Do what you must do.” Snow dances like feathers. On the other side of the mirror, another me smiles faintly, with the eyes of someone already dead. I put out the cigarette and grip the balcony railing. She is me, not me. Is it real or fake? Who are you?