terça-feira, 11 de setembro de 2018

The clumsy spy

Your special identity still leaves a trace
Secret agent among the human race
Not even recognizing your own face
Getting lost in the details of someone elses mission

pushing exhaustive hours
Telling yourself you have power
Getting to know the now

You trip over your laundry basket and shoe laces
Morning slapping you across the face
lost your badge and costumes

Thinking no one knows who you are and none so curious to delve
when some of them see you clearer than themselves
Thinking past brief exchanges equal friendships and fame
When some them can't even remember your name

The world can't worship you, when you are not bold
for what identity have you bought or sold
what traits are you still in debt for

So many just deaf to their calling
Like a farmer fishing on a trawler
Are you one like this old son

A secret agent who needs help
to reveal your identity to yourself

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