Is my head connected to the radio set? It's been talking to me for three days now, tells me I'm a horrible cow, then, at the same time, a wonderful woman. It tells me I'm nice, then criticises me for believing it! "Get out of my mind".
It shouts, as I wonder, who's mind is this? This poem is written by the radio; It tells me it loves me, in one song then says I don't belong. It's driving me crazy; I'm in despair Wondering if anyone's really out there?
If there is, why choose me, to tell me that what I see is not to be. A buddist monk visits, leads me along a path, next to bubbling stream, in between slippery rocks of wet moss along a path I don't want to take.
