I am the guy who has never been early
I am the guy who knows a lot about cars
I am the untimely tick of the minute hand
I am I am I am I am nothing at all

I am the breath of the hurricane
Follow me down with the gaze of the weathervanes
I am the chance to make good on a promise
I am a robin that flies in the rain

I am the sound of the freezing of waterways
Sound of the snoring of hibernate toads
Sound of the trees, of the creak of the winter wind
Sound of the leaves getting buried in snow

I am the key you hid under the stone
I am the shiver of mice that have gotten cold
I am the noise of the wind in the walls
I am I am I am I am nothing at all

~

I am the untimely death of the author
Half-finished full-bodied posthumous work
I am the thought to go back for another bite
Even when stomach is starting to hurt

I am the clip on tie of the salesman
I am the tupperware lid doesn’t fit
I am the line for to get into heaven
And I am the teeth for to chomp at the bit

I am the crust on a slice of your wonder bread
I am the color of grain alcohol
I am a picture of lungs after cigarettes
I am I am I am I am
Nothing at all

~

I am the bunting that hangs from the towers
I am the heat lamp that melted the plastic flowers
I am the bill at the end of the night
Not a surprise but that doesn’t mean I’m not a fright

I am the desperate pry of the paramour
I am the cry of a sacrificed pawn
I am a face you don’t recognize anymore
I am the creeping and long-labored dawn

I am the cracks in the brass of the dinner bell
I am the talk of the talk of the town
I am the guilt after something goes very well
And I’m all the muscles that it takes to frown

I am I am I am I am
I am I am I am
Nothing at all