I'm a walking stick
I'm a blind man
I don't care if I bump into ya
I need to hang on to your shoulder and cry
I am 10 feet tall and two moments
From crashing in front of a gasoline truck
Do I need to go on
Everything exaggerated, basically
My footsteps carry me home
Not my friend's address
How about the invisible sun
I don't see the fire
Or the light in my eyes
All I see is darkness of my life
And the light of my life disappear
You can't sell love to me
What about the mandolin
On the streets and their buskers
Or is it the other way
I stay at home, I might bump into an old friend
Scalding bath water
That's the warmth, I'm looking for
Not the cold swarm and visible toil
My feet have gone cold from no shoes
I am surrounded by concepts
And no action
Keep it up and I might be a textbook definition
Of a poem
On an old crush