I am a stranger, always was,
Find few familiar things
On shelves, in streets, in drawers, in voices, in faces.

What hopes I have hang heavy on hooks that once held old clothes.
They share the smell of moth balls.

I am not owned and own nothing in return,
I have feelings to burn, but no one burns them.
I have things to tell, but no one learns them.
Standalone, standing alone, lonely standing in empty rock pools,
Fool, dolt, deluded by illusions even though I know
My anxious heart will grow till it bursts,
First to the brink, last to the bottom
Some doubt my arrival, but the end is the same.
We all play the game,
Take praise and shun the blame,
Take on new souls as easily as new names,
Think we can get away with it,
Broken as we are in a broken world,
Fitting in, unseen, unseeing.

I am in danger, always was, Seek safety with half a heart On corners of streets, in voices and faces. The love I have lives longer than I dare expect, Despite my fear that it may be wrecked By overliving it, giving it too freely to be me. I am another now.