Are we story tellers?
Or are we poets? 
Are we bullshit sellers?
Or do we really know it? 

Are we has-been-s?
Or never-will-be-s? 
Are we state of the art?
Or just lonely old fa...? 

Enough of the questions
I have some suggestions 

We're deep thinkers
Slow drinkers 
Emotional heroes 
Social no-gos
Hidden away inside
Away from the tide
Of human matter
And all the chatter
Long enough to think 
And write it out in ink 
Then go back again 
So we can listen in 
To find another story
To write for our glory 
Personal or otherwise 

And so it does arise
That we are observers
Life time preservers 
Of all that passes 
Alongside gasses
Released in the air
That just disappear
But never fear my dear
For we are surely here
To lend an open ear 
And write out every fear
That passes year to year 
Before it doth disappear.