There is a hole punched out br In the fabric of every soul: br That hole completes me br That hole is my claim to br The imperfect constitution of br Humanity. br br That hole is the playplace of br My imperfections br The very idiosyncrasies that br Define me. br br And yet br There sits a guard at the door… br He knocks ever so often br He looks ever so rude! br He whistles to keep me awake br He haunts my dreams too! br br I know u my conscience br I know your reflection that darkens br The corners of my core br I know you as the br warden br That br Peeps out the hole br In my soul. br br I know you br And br I humor you br As I all the while br Continue br Having my mesmerizing br Affair br With br Humanity.