am i like a gray man or more like a ghost folding up all my phases and fading out almost took against chances and squandered a day fumbling the factsthe place and time the dates and names so leave me a hand up or leave it alone procrastinate whats gone is dead whats dead is done i move slowly but moving slowly is a kind of moving and i dont regret the paths ive made or the years i spent doing nothing growing nothing in a place where every face is old so back to the milk doorthe same house the same walk the same chore if im bored there isnt anyone blame wasting wasteland crumbs of pavement partial projects put off to vacancy i move slowly if youre wondering but wondering at all is a wonder to me do you know what i mean 