In the open air of
A night still young
My imagination was
Let loose and the story
I had to tell
Seized me

Free was I to wander
The dark and witness
Mysteries unfolding in
The shadows that
Foretold the coming
Of the light

Remembering that life
Is a remarkable journey
And that we're all
Just one ray away
From being a sun
To someone

If I called a psychic hotline,
could the disembodied voice
on the other end of the line
give me some secret to my future?

Or should I try the palm readers
so ubiquitous throughout
the seedier parts of town late at night?
Maybe they can read the clues
sketched onto my hands
and point me in the direction
of the path I'm meant to be on.

Can I find a crystal ball gazer
and have her look deep
into the swirling mists of myself?
Tell me ma'am, am I doing
anything at all right?

I suppose I'm meant to be content
wandering aimlessly along,
with no one to whisper
secrets in my ear as I go.  
But tell me ma'am,
does it drive everyone
as mad as it's driving me?