I write about words, I find treasure or worse I watch the end of man and, and I dream like a bird I remain aloft and I forget a lot I try not to try and I can remember or not I'm a real machine, it follows You're a real machine, fed on shadows* I'm a real machine. Follow? You're a real machine, we're fed on shadows I return your gaze and I wait in the rain All inchoate desires, I do what I hate I remain aloft and I forget a lot Then I try not to try and I can remember, or not You're a real machine, it follows I'm a real machine. Follow I'm a real machine, it follows You're a real machine, fed on shadows I'm a real machine, it follows You're a real machine. Fed on shadows * “His intelligence and emotions may quite well be in fine shape, it's his imagination that's been starved and fed on shadows” – Northrop Frye