Each of our viewpoints is impossible for others to see.
No matter how much we yell scream and beat on the glass...
To the people standing in front of the mirror,
When they look at us all they see is themselves.
Up in the corner is a picture of us,
That's all they can see of us.
The room behind that mirror is dark and infinite.
All I can do is stumble around,
Hoping to find someone in here with me,
Or for someone to break the glass and come in to look for me.
I've broken many mirrors,
But maybe that's why I have so much bad luck.