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The Goldfish Watching.
The goldfish is staring at me.
You'll think me crazy, but I can see
He's glaring from his little glass house
Watching me, quiet as a mouse.
He must think me dumb, you see,
For while he is trapped and I am free,
I'm also enclosed in a little glass bowl
But instead of breathing in water, my lungs are filled with Soul.
And while the goldfish watches me with a critical eye,
and dreams of one day seeing the sky,
I sit on the sofa, wrapped up in my head,
Wishing I was in the goldfish's stead.

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