The screen door slammed, and out I ran
into the hot July.
I don't care where I'm going;
whether I flail or fly.
I've gotta be doing something-
or burst for want of a word,
And I'm listening hard for a meaning
but Babel is all I've heard.
I'm slipping past some people
who walk on the hard sidewalk.
I'm squeaking by so slippery,
I don't have the time for talk.
I'm sweet and somersaulting
but no one knows my name.
Would you like to know for certain
that life is not a game?
You're cruising along beside me-
I'm just a part of your dream,
but I'm crying out to reach you
with a primal scream.