What are You

What are You? Watching the streets go by With my seventh eye, Watching the wheels go round. I talk to a nonsense guy Whose hair is high, Explaining the things he's found. Striking a chord in time, The fourth in rhyme, He tells me that he feels down. He shouts to the world out loud 'Not one of the crowd!', Don’t belong to this old town. 'I can't hang about these streets…' He cries and bleats, Dancing just like a clown. I watch him spinning aloud With the crunching sound, of bones as he's run down. What are you, what are you supposed to do, What were you, what was the thing that went through you. I couldn’t do, the thing that I just saw him do. What could you do, what was I supposed to do.