And still I go on floating
I can’t explain the feeling so
But you can tell from my writing
It’s not too too easy letting go
But truly there’s no fever crazy
Nothing’s driving me, not live nor lazy
No absence making feelings fonder
No loss or absent mind to wander
It’s a most unusual face, to face
In the morning when I’ve slept well
I just get on with what I have got to do
No remorse or rekindling, hurts not breaking through
But I know it’s not me that’s holding
Lack of scolding feeling not of my conscious making
Yet something else, something unknown is going on
For how long, how long, how long, how…
