When a man saw a plan
That he couldn't understand
It was such a burning issue
That he had to fan the flames
When he scanned what he'd fanned
It was only second hand
All the fabric only tissue
All the faces only names.

Please don't make him choose
Because it's all he's got to lose
See it's only his identity
It isn't really news
Really just a little weakness
So you've no right to refuse
All the suffering and pleasure
That he gets from such abuse.

If you see the situation
From his angle, with his eyes
You might see him as he sees himself
And tries to analyze
Why the number he first thought of
Now looks like so many lies
How he's not the perfect mirror
How his thoughts are but a guise.

If he paused and reflected
On the rubbish he collected
As expected he'd be looking
At the content of his life
All the views he rejected
Could have better been respected
An accepted situation
Where it's cutting, there's a knife.