Who am I to be
Who am I to go
Who am I to stand
When I just do not know
But the standing stands itself
On a wire or a string
I may be clueless
But it knows everything
To pull me from my socks
Back into my boots
To pull me like a tree
Up from solid roots
And it may have its reason
(It doesn’t have a rhyme)
All I know is that it says
Baby, it is time