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Society has become so stupid
I don’t care that my daughter gets bad grades.
I am a jerk for hanging my head, for being ashamed of myself for so long.
My wife—who I don’t love—knows how stupid I am
and has almost convinced me I can’t write a decent song,
among my other innumerable faults.
And my college-aged daughter, with a look,
scorns me out of thinking I know anything called right. Or wrong.
I am as calm as the hunted are,
when the hunters are scouring the land.
I feel nothing as I examine the chords
of “I Wanna Hold Your Hand.”
What makes the artistic genius?
I never discuss this with my wife.
And all I can do is hold my breath
when I think about my daughter’s life.
