[Intro] Blue smoke holding its shape. A question waiting inside it. “Who are you?” [Verse 1] I knew when I woke. At least I think I did. There was a name that fit my mouth. Hands that ended where I expected. A voice that sounded like mine. Now every mirror returns somebody half a second late. [Pre-Chorus] “Explain yourself.” I could— if I knew which self to give. [Chorus] WHO ARE YOU? The question lands and nothing answers. WHO ARE YOU? My name still fits, but differently. I've been stretched past recognition, folded small enough to lose. If I wake up changed tomorrow— which version of me was true? [Verse 2] He watches like a clock watches weather. No comfort. No surprise. I tell him I've been changing. He says— “So?” One word. And suddenly I hate how badly I needed him to care. [Pre-Chorus] “What size do you want to be?” I almost say— the size I was before I noticed I could change. [Chorus] WHO ARE YOU? The question lands and nothing answers. WHO ARE YOU? My name still fits, but differently. I've been stretched past recognition, folded small enough to lose. If I wake up changed tomorrow— which version of me was true? [Break] “Recite.” I know this. I know— I knew this. [Verse 3] The first line comes. The second wears a stranger's clothes. Words I kept for years have moved. I reach for memory. It moves. I reach again. It moves. He lets me finish. Then— “That is not said right.” [Build] Neither am I. Not lately. My body keeps revising me. My memory misspells me. Every room requires another shape. Every door demands a tax for entry. How much can disappear before the name belongs to no one? [Final Chorus] WHO ARE YOU? I don't know. There. I said it. WHO ARE YOU? Maybe knowing isn't permanent. Maybe I was real this morning. Maybe I'm still real tonight. Maybe changing doesn't prove that either one was right. WHO ARE YOU? Ask again. I'll give you what I know. [Outro] He points to the mushroom. One side— large. One side— small. No instructions for becoming yourself again. I break off a piece from both.
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