We’re pools you see
With bottoms too deep to swim

Lurking in the frigid, lightless depths
That time when you were eight drifts
Along with the lashes of daddy's belt
That send little bubbles to the surface

For some it is harder or easier
Exciting or boring
But complex always

And yet we treat everyone as a puddle
Looking at that one inch of surface water
With X-Ray glasses bought from an ad in the back of Boy’s Life

I have you all figured out
You’re one of those guys
Just like my father