I am drifting
Beyond my own fluid beliefs
Into my own pantomime
Either the crass cynic
Or the class clown
I have never actually been near
Where I ought to be
A problem for fools and philosophers alike
Rooted
Drifting
Rooted
Paradox
Yet I only see glimpses
Of who I really am
Who I was
Who I could be
The accountant coughs loudly
And asks me for a cup of tea
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