Russell G. Robison

THINKING

I often can be found inside
My head just killing time
I’ve always called it drifting
And it usually comes with rhyme

It rarely comes with reason
And it’s often quite confused
Don’t know too many words
And most of them I have abused

To me it seems like babble
In this cavern where I roam
An endless tale of someone who got lost
And can’t find home

Too much and far too often
I go drifting come what may
Don’t know if that’s a good sign
But I do it everyday