(Hammill)
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`.