So what is it that goes on here really  You and I tend to spin our philosophies  So intent that the truth that we speak is so pure  But it's rife with naivete  When I don't draw the line that I tell you  That I play with all possibilities  Your mom said it best I'm a jack of all trades  But a master of nothing at all    Today I've become what I am not  Unchanged at the very same time  >From the girl that you saw in the schoolroom door  Now embraced in photographer's lines    What can we say that is ours today  Adrift in our own worn-out monologues  of dreams that could take us so far from this place  and the tangents that bring us back home  Hard proof or not, I'm existing  Unable to fathom my metaphors  But as long as my pen's still so legible to read  All I ask is that you read on