A Primitive, Simple Kind

Mud pies, mud sliding and grass stains
Blueberry picking and Autumn's rain
The smell of wooden barrels and dusty novels
My little world is so cliche

Some of us think too much
And feed the cynical old man inside
I wish I could be everyone to everyone
I find freedom when I'm unable

One could take a crow bar to my mind
And find, a primitive, simple kind
My profound thoughts have been thought before
But possibly never noticed

I know the fear of recognition
I know the empty cup it fills
Oh, I do know empty recognition
I know that emptiness

"But You"

I don't know what wrote my genetic code
But I have a vague impression
That its sense of humor is somewhat cruel
But fair when the court's in session

I need a chance, a moment to break off
From my trains of thought-it can drive a human mad
My insufficiencies spawn my tendencies
To make others feel less than I am

But, please, please, let me be
The gum underneath your shoe

"You"