Things come out wrong when I try to write my wrongs in pen
        In ten days I’ll be doing one of two types of time:
                either time spent sitting and sleeping and waiting
                or time spent sitting and sleeping and learning.
I guess I’m not too quick when it comes to confessions of carelessness
        I have a habit of avoiding caution and careful conduct
        I’m calloused and confused
                and my bones are bruised
                and my soon-to-be present
                will be spent serving time in a room or a cell.
My second sight of the wise old hermit
        made me feel like wising up a bit myself.
He seems not to want me no matter all the times I’ve tried to travel to his doorbell.
        He must be waiting for something I have yet to give.