I smoke a cigar as I try to write
I jot down what's up during the day and night
Things I feel others can relate to
Ideas and feelings that want to break through
Mostly, I'm very selfish when I put pen to paper
I enjoy way too much talking about myself
I don't feel like searching my mind to what ryhmes with paper
Caper, hater, what am I talking about?
But my favorite subject is me
Without me, there wouldn't be you
I feel and believe we're all destined to see
That there are realities that are right and true
Things that are secure in the making
Beauty that makes sense
And all are gorgeous in my eyes