Is It You

Picking at a paper cut, on the long walk home,
and I am alone again, for the first time today
Waiting on the letter box, But there’s nothing inside,
not even my prides there, I mailed it away,
and the ocean tide, makes a picture of my life,
as I move with the moon,
and I sink with the sand,
and I do what I do,
but I don’t understand,
Is it you, is it you, it is you, is it you
looking for a metaphor,
or something complex,
that you can take out of context,
and be better off,
I see you so movable, but still you insist,
and I’m getting restless, to see you unfold
and the ocean tide, makes a picture of my life
as I move with the moon, and I sink with the sand,
and I do what I do,
but I don’t understand,
Is it you, is it you, it is you, is it you