I hope not to be seen
By the knower that’s been
Nor the giver, the taker
The holy thou maker
Don’t ram with I think
When my life’s at the brink
‘It sure worked for them’
This rumouring stem
I hope not to be questioned
No shoulds ever mentioned
No rites to my ‘wrongs’
Fine tuning my songs
Don’t raid me with yours
Those outpouring doors
Fast halting the ripple
Black taping the nipple
Not my world, that’s you
Those rules you hold true
Keep them close, if you may
Your minute, your day
Not mine.
