That is my mind is blank
Not a single drop in this old fish tank
The bookworm looks for thoughts to read
While I ponder thoughts to think
The poet reader reads the lost arts
So that he can find thoughts that are torn apart
Of what were was once with but where are they now
Talk of simple lives and small little towns
The minstrel now plays his guitar loud
The bass, drums and singer are the new quartets sound
As though they screaming off the rooftops
Can you hear me now?
But I regress and digress and prefer to back down
Every push forward is a step to hold your ground
To step backwards you need to look around
A step sideways always takes you out of the way
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