On the other side of the mirror there’s another man like me

He seems to look just like me I have to agree

He’s another man with the same thinking process

He’s trying to move on, trying to make progress

 

He takes milk with his tea but only one sugar

And offer him coffee and he’ll tend to shudder

He likes computers and writing things

Mainly poems but whatever his pen brings

 

Still, you can never predict what that pens going to bring

Sometimes it’s a thought that bites back and stings

And unwelcome thoughts like that will linger

And like me, that man puts himself through the ringer

 

There’s an Italian restaurant he frequents

And the red wine they serve is very decent

The pasta is good and the pizza outstanding

Maybe that’s why his waistline is expanding

 

In a lot of ways I kind of like that guy

But for the life of me I don’t understand why

He’s had all sorts of problems and divorced his wife.

Why on earth doesn’t he sort out his life?