My brain is a bowl of hot steaming stew
Never decided on what it shall do:
Boil this moment, pop in the next
Outline an opus or spew scattered wrecks
Catch on a small thought, stubborn as steel
Caring not for what its owner might feel
Ruin a party, clothesline a dream
Embrace a stranger, mend a torn seam
Lead me to valleys ahead of the wind
With constant recalling of how I have sinned