I sit and stare at the wall opposite the window
For a shadow I know will never show
Will never flutter the light of day
As the front door, unused, will never sway

I sit and stare at the wall opposite the window
In imagination I paint a porno, maybe a meadow
And I the scarecrow, tattered and torn, in disarray
As there is no foreplay, no pathway... anyway

I sit and stare at the wall opposite the window
And wonder what it would be like, the afterglow
Innuendo, no... It is just naïveté
Having long since sealed shut, the entryway