He's a blind man, crouching by the pavement

only seeing with his third eye

and clutching at the astral shadow

of every passer-by

He's a wise man, trumping all the answers

she's a wild girl, trying to keep his feet on the floor

in whispered physical litanies

"Stay away from the door."

"Oh, but we're all in this together," he says

"three-legged race across the floor

if only you'd loosen the handkerchief

then I'd forget the door."

"Ooh, that feels so much better," he says

"now you forget everything that I've said before

and sit there all by yourself

while I walk through the door."

They're a blind man, crouching by the pavement,

only seeing with his third eye

and clutching at the astral shadow

of the door of a room

called 'I'