Are you unhappy with how we hold hands?
When every finger fits?
Does my beard tickle or prickle?
Or does it turn you on?
A silly, little, fickle thing,
To cast my doubts upon
Does my voice scratch or scrape?
Does it surprise and delight?
Or does it swallow you
In the endless ocean of night?
Can I make you happy?
And have enough to spare?
Or am I driving on empty?
Too gone to care