Who We Really Are

Sometimes I get away
Sometimes I go missing
Sometimes I get lost.
Sometimes I go drinking.
Pint in hand,
cigarette in the other,
fruit machine in the middle.
Sometimes I am unstable,
travelling down a bad track.
Sometimes you see yourself
and don’t know what you are looking at.
None of us know who we really are,
none of us know who we’re looking for.
We travel on, only get so far.

Sometimes I get away.
Sometimes I go missing.
Sometimes I get lost.
Sometimes I go drinking.