I don't see what You see in me
I'm just flesh and bone
Many hours at the carousel
Postcards from far from home
Sometimes I feel as useless as my empty words, old presidents' dogs, clean paws, no dirt-
What do these words mean?
Sometimes I just don't know
Sometimes I just can't see where it is I go-
I waste my whole day thinking over things I've said
And avoiding myself like the plague in my head

I know that You see me
And I know You're about me
That's why You let me roam another 10 miles-

Where does all this lead, and why must I follow it?
Nothing is black and white
(Even me, I must admit)
I jot down the facts and work on consistency
But open up the closed door;
It's George, and the cat, and me
My shifting eyes like sands cannot focus on the void
Concentration still
"Get thee behind me, Freud."
I'm grasping at straws and the bale is almost gone;
The fire's grown much too dim
Nights grow much too long-
I am holding things Yours
Not mine while I should cling to You
Like a cow beneath the light of a highway sign