That's Me in the Corner

I wish I could.
Just do it
(or so I’m told,
and so on and so on and so on).
Can’t we all? Just get
A long way to Pasedena or Punxetawny or Pensecola
Or some such place where
I’m a maniac,
Maniac, and
I will raise my hand if I’m sure
I’ve fallen
And I can’t get up.
I ask not what my country can do
For me, but
Never mind.
Be good.
I want to fly like an eagle.
I want to bang a gong.
Whatever.
Whatever, I said.
No.
New taxes, Auld Lang Syne.
I look marvelous,
As if I believe the children
are the future,
But I can’t believe
What we have here is failure.
To communicate, I don’t know
What. A feeling.
I only know. I’ve got the right.
Stuff born.
To run, baby, on.
Bored, I am strong enough
For a man.
I’m going to have to.
Face it -
I’m addicted.
To love, I am one hundred percent not guilty.
Oh, what?
A relief, it is.
I am not a crook.
I made him.
An offer, he couldn’t refuse, for
I have the power.
I am the Piano Man
And the Walrus.
I am all. That I can be.
I am the resurrection and the life
And the material girl.
Do you feel lucky?
Well,
Do you?
I hate:
Snakes. Designing. Women.
I have a dream:
I want to be an airborne ranger you
Can’t handle.
The truth?
This is me, All of me.