The shift is quick and we are not aware
Than any moment now, the floor will drop
And leave us grasping in the empty air.
With our confusion.

At once we find our friends have gone
They’re out – or they don’t want to know.
Our hollow empty selves are left alone.
Abandoned in confusion.

There’s no-one that can touch us for we care
Enough to put a barrier, hard and cold
Around us so that we are less aware
Of our confusion.

Let’s have a dose of anti-feeling stuff
And being stoned can with our glassy eyes
Thereby confusing too much with just enough
And tolerate confusion.

The limit is a fragile shelf to tread
The battering of our being can be death
And right into the vortex we are led
Depressed complete confusion.

© EGB  December 1970


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