I’ve got enough imagination
but I’ll paint this one by numbers anyway
Go through the proscribed palette
hope this picture’s here to stay
I’m pushing the same stone again
I’ve sung to it a thousand nights
I’ve sung it low down in the valley
sung it mere feet from the heights
My challenge needs a new metaphor
maybe a hard place or a rock
maybe I overstate my longing
maybe all I really face is tick-tock
they say I live among the privileged
the member of some small percent
I’m pretty sure there’s some above me
pretty sure that column’s still bent
but there’s a few spots left still
those numbers point my denouement
and if it comes up you again
I’ll search that stone yet for the flaw
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