My Best James Dean

My schiziod nature colliding with the developmental challenge of intimacy.

If I knew where I was going,
I could figure out how to get there,
but I'm just passing through,
so it really doesn't matter.
If anyone should ask,
please say you saw me,
but if you're the only one
who remembers,
that's OK too.
I'll probably forget.

We all have to protect ourselves.
I was an Armadillo once,
but that got boring,
so now I pretend
that I don't really care.
Not that I do,
do wah, do wah do wah ditty,
talk about the girl from New York City.
What shall we do next?
It's your turn to sit under the Apple,
and I'll shoot the arrow.