He’s running far away from what was God given
Looking for the day when the sun bathes him in its light
Even without praying for it all the time
He’s spinning in circles in the patterns of his misbehavior
Where did it all go wrong like a bad clown’s dream
He tap dances with his mortality and his mediocrity
It’s no longer the dream that paves his way
But the fear of normality that saves the day
Scrambled eggs sustains him and makes him whole
But only when they’re runny and mixed with cheese
Cannot write to save his life
Cannot love to make it right
What happened, he wonders, was it always like this
And was I destined to urinate on myself?
I want to be a clown again and make myself laugh
Please, please, please. I’ll do anything and give everything
Even give my sandwich to the three-legged lady
Except give up my dream but even she is threatening to leave
This is the conundrum isn’t it?
Give up and be free or fight and wither in the cold of myself
