Once I was a fresh face in your crowd
Like early morning dew on a farmer’s market fruit
Now there are women everywhere with sunlit eyes
Casting me into the shadows of their pheromones
Guitars wander into forced looks of arbitrariness
It is easier for a tuba to examine wood-floor cracks
Many miles spent sleeping on the couch
Of the upstairs apartment of the Emerald City mayor
I am still a constituent but maybe I don’t vote anymore
I’m an independent apathetic hippie or just scared and shy