(no subject)

[ruede]

Well it goes like this
The fourth, the fifth
The major fall; the minor lift
The baffled girl composing,
"What to do, ja?!"



Now, it is true! there is no thought
That can't be tailored; can't be taught;
I made my mind most overwrought
All on my own -- you sure did not.

Still, I'll perform my cheap despair
Before I clap my hands, and comb my hair,
And rub my mind completely bare
As it were tarnished silverware
Within a kitchen sink...
Until I stop once more, to think...