Which you do I see, is that you, is it me?
And how much is true, of the me seen by you?
If I say “you look nice”, do you have to think twice
If it’s you that I’ve seen — if you see what I mean?
Oh what can we do, with this me, with this you,
When there’s so much unsaid that is all in our head
And the more that we try just to see eye to eye
Or to make a connection, we find, on reflection,
There’s always that schism, a reflecting prism
Which throws our desiring, our dreams and admiring,
Our hope and our fear, and all we hold dear
Right back in our noses! Although, one supposes,
it’s still worth the trying, so no use in crying,
For all I can do is try to see you.
But which you do I see, is that you, is it me?
And how much is true, of the me seen by you?
I’ll still try, even though I may never quite know
If it’s you that I’ve seen. If you see what I mean.
Exactly!