I can describe but not explain
I am passionately indifferent, painfully observant, and obtusely cautious
Devoid of greater transcendence, unweighted by perspective
While like you, I seek unity and clarity
I can hope but not persuade
That you will follow my analysis
Of a state of mind at one point we have all shared
Permeating order and fiction
Scribbling out a path of transit
Makes no difference in my book
All the world is a stage
No choice but to play along
But I am ever so aware that I am an actor in this
And that is what makes me an Observer
I'll never know which is worse, only what most prefer
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