I’m at the crossroads, but not on my knees.
Better to be here than walking along
Some endless desert road, so I say please
Don’t worry, this is not an old blues song.
Excitement comes from choice, no right or wrong.
When there’s no choice, that’s when we get the blues.
So I’ll pick up my bag and click my tongue,
Maybe I’ll shrug my shoulders, and then choose.
Three choices (left, right, straight on) could confuse,
But then they say things always come in threes.
You can’t see where they lead, eyes not that strong.
Can’t see round bends and over hills, but whose
Eyes can? No man, that’s who. No prophecies
From me, except it’s time that I was gone.
Sun 6 Jan 2008
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