Hah, you say you're unpractical
there an organizer of dreams you are
you say you're uncreative
look at the enveloping deploying shades of grace
you say you're unfaithful
and only of words is your day made
you say you don't like it
and your hands grasp tight to show white knuckles at dawn
you say you don't care
and wrinkles are drawing precious embroideries on your face
you say you are not
and still you wish to know of what stuff you are made
you say and you say
was asking myself but why do soliloquies never end?