What It Is

Falling out of the aeroplane

I don’t know if I’m dying or being set free

It’s all one to me

Crawling out of the cellophane

I don’t know if I’m fancy or I’m twee

Whom should I be?

Call me on the telephone

Tell me who I am!

Sitting with a stethoscope

Wishing it were ham radio saying my name over and over and over and over and over ’til I know

What it is

It’s what it is

Inching out of the downward spiral

Navel-gazing has drilled and come up dry

On me, myself, I … I, I, I

Pinching things from an ego viral

Left me too paralysed to simply try

Slow death, so shy

Call me on the telephone

Tell me who I am!

Sitting with a stethoscope

Wishing it were ham radio saying my name over and over and over and over and over ’til I know

What it is

It’s what it is

What it is

It’s what it is.

(c) Rebekah Robinson 2012

with profuse thanks to all the great friends who helped me field the identity crisis I went through, a couple of years back!

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