I fit into the skin of Mr quite man, who has a lot to say
Who might you be? when nobodies around
I would like to be that single sound
Than the scream of the madding crowd
The words to the song of life, that fill my head
while Everyone is singing the same old things
if only ‘they’ know, what I am about
why am the loner on the block [recluse]
while all the while I wear the public mask of ‘Mr fit in’
the chief master, of banter!
everyone is walking their own way through the maze of life
playing ‘cutups’ to their fibs
lovers and liars abound, a few sips of wine
I nose full to fit the theme
Hello Mrs Joan’s, who might you be?
The highway to nowhere calls
Blisters on the sole! But they walk on
