If I could live inside a cup, I would.
Inside of it; be understood.
The sides that keep me in are real.
And the bottom that I lay upon, I feel.
Life would be good inside my cup.
there would be warmth and air, enough.
That I could whistle my life away.
Inside a cup; if there; would stay.
But not inside a cup am I.
and cannot whistle till I die.
I must wake, and breathe, and fight
come home defeated everynight.
Yes, inside a cup, I feel at home.
No lonely, long, tired streets to roam.
Just smooth, curved walls to keep me in.
No where to end nor begin