I am on the high side of normal And heading for a fall, My friends are all absent And I am trapped in my stall
I am on the high side of normal And looking for a brawl
Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves But I am still waiting on your call
The stall is comforting those same four walls Forever standing to offer me support The hope is to bolt out and stay in first But the walls will still be here if I fall short.
I started writing this when thinking of the various personality spectra that are theorised by psychologists and then thinking of everything else that is on a scale, blood sugar level, blood pressure, IQ and how on all things people say someone scores high or low, or normal, when most of the time people view scoring high as a good thing, sometimes this is far from the case and high can be as detrimental as low, yet still normal has connotations with adequate, ok sufficient rather than excelling or being noteworthy, in the early part I think I am equating the stall, to a cell, but towards the end it is more a horse racing thing, maybe it is still a cell, it is just when they spring the person loose they will run and enjoy the freedom perhaps, I don’t really know anymore.