His name is Mr. Blurry,
He comes and goes as he may please,
Usually he leaves in a hurry,
As quick as the cold winter breeze.
Nails as sharp as knives,
Voice as deep as the ocean,
It is in my head where he thrives,
Threatening me with harmful notion.
Mr. Blurry is always standing in a dark corner of my room,
It is here where he calls home,
It’s so dark where he stands that not even the largest of flowers bloom,
Desperately trying to rid myself of Mr. Blurry, far from my abode I chose to roam.
But he followed me,
He always knows,
Where I will be,
He is behind me, and I am scared he is behind you too.
WILDsound Festival 