Of me there is so many,

I am anywhere he may see:

It’s punches to my gut.

 

When I see him, I wonder

If he wonders (Is he me?)

Of me there is so many.

 

He always makes me blunder

He has my own skeleton key:

It’s punches to my gut.

 

Worse yet is that I shudder,

Though not ‘cos he hits slyly;

Of me there is so many;

 

If I’m mirror, he’s glass cutter

In his image I see only me:

It’s punches to my gut.

 

Sneaky fuck is he a scupperer

Worsts of me’s in his spree.

Of me there is so many.

It’s punches to my gut.