Cat's what the call me
It might seem obscene, but I'm really a knee
It's like the movie scene
where the guy takes some lean thinks he can fly and jumps off of a mezzenine
It didn't end with a flump, but don't be stumped
because when he jumped he took flight, going up and up and up
A metaphor you'd never understand
unless you couldn't stand the grand plan society has to shift a man
This shift isn't a gift
I assure you that if you think this anyone like me could be quite miffed
We like to think it a myth
that a man could simply become stiff upon the arrival of a shallow cliff they could've easily missed
It's a mystery how a poem could be about lean and knees
but at the same time me, and possibly a little bit of every reverie you see
But I just know it is
Because when the clock strikes six it doesn't stick it only clicks
A circle fixed to constantly tick every second we breath in
And out, but there's no doubt
That as we get caught up in a stout bout of shouts and stammers
we struggle to clamber our way out.
And that's what it's all about
Because I've seen and I saw what I can't yet call "all"
The names of cat's that I'll shout out to y'all
Saul, Paul, Maul, Yawl, McCall, and now knee.
It's okee to be a Steve or a Pete, just don't be naive.
You can be a knee so long as you're not a sieve
Seperating the lame from the fame and any other thing for which you aim