Changing the stationnDoes nothingnTo make you feel any lessnA guilty part of the rest of the world nnTurning the channelnDoes nothingnTo separate younFrom the voices that spewnBut don’t speak for us nnFeels like you’re boundnFeels like they speak for younDoing things in your namenThings you would never do nnWhen thoughts swim like thesenTell me how anyonenWith living to donIs supposed to get any done nnThrowing your hands upnDoes somethingnTo make you feel betternAfter skipping that letter you’d meant to writenAiming at neighborsnDoes somethingnTo separate you from the guilt that you didn’t donAll you could n