What if you begin to get what you want but as things turn out it ain’t exactly what you want?
Do you take a backseat, see that someone else needs to read your poetry
The thought alone strikes a fair amount of fear in me, I know it will always be a case of what will be will be, but there’ll be a fairer than fair degree of attention, people all too willing to mention it if the words don’t fit
This is it, the time to be careful, no need to get ahead of myself, open myself up to being left on the shelf
A literary shelf would be rather nice, maybe even as much as a relative slice of fame
Ask who my influences are and I won’t be able to tell you, I may be an influence all of my own accord, if the words don’t sit right I’m the first in line to have a bitch and a moan
This is what I like to do, not everyone’s cup of tea and that’s quite alright
I need to keep on keeping on, handpick the few who really know what they’re talking about and the rest should take care of itself
I just want to know one thing, who is the famous Irish author who stole my words, didn’t think to tell me
I dunno
I know it’s a compliment even if a little absurd

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