There's something about the way the water trickles down
As if purposely tickling everything it seemingly touches
One little drop, courses its way down all the way to the ground
It could be on a mission, and yet it could be lost in the wrinkles
I stare at it, lost in the down-pour of make believe rain
And feel for a moment that perhaps me and this drop are parallel
I was born from a torn heart; it was born from a torn shower curtain
And all the while, gravity has its hold on us--so we're never too high to fall
As it comes to the bottom of its shower curtain world, it stops
I stop breathing for a moment as I await its inevitable destiny below
And as it falls mercilessly into the pool of a million other water drops
I know, that I too am only one of a million to feel what I do