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I don't know who I am,
Or what I am doing,
Where I am going
Or what is real.
I know my past,
And what I have done,
What I have missed,
And the reasons.
I reckon I'm like a Sydney road map.
You can work it out,
But it's difficult,
Tedious,
It all looks the same,
But isn't,
And you have to pay attention,
Or you'll get lost.
It makes sence from a distance,
To some extent,
But you have to know what you are looking for.
When you get involved though,
And drive through those streets,
There aren't enough signs to point you in the right direction,
And some of them are misleading.
Blink for a second,
And it can have all changed.
Reading the road map before hand won't help you all that much,
Because you have to know where you are in relation to the streets,
And factor in the changebility.
Whether it's worth it or not is not my decision.
I just make the streets.
Life is an extended metaphore,
Only I choose to put it into words.