You can find me playing Peter from a perchnFrom the parapet that overlooks my churchnBut my gate is locked, the pearls don't shinenCause I'm playing peter in my mindnnI dot my Is and cross my t'snWhen I write down what peter seesnBut I still find it hard to readnAnd I don't remember what I meannnWhat drove you out were ringing bellsnWhat floated up were angry yellsnWhat drifted down you barely heardnThe sound of my ungrateful wordsnnSo I engage in thieverynLike art could save a wretch like menThe greatest judge in historynMakes Solomon look awfully weaknnCouldn't I adjust my gaitnAnd finally start thinking straightnI can't be right, I must be wrongnBut the proof has been there all alongnnI lost faith in people years agonSo the future finds me growing oldnA notebook spread across my desknMe playing peter once again