The word "who" is a pronoun if we go by grammar
And it's a pronoun that I use quite a bit
A questioning word like an unending stammer
In my head, a stuck record, a one time hit.
I try to figure out what context to use it
And think and think, and then think a bit more
I play back the details in my head like a skit
As if I haven't done that a million times before
By now you're done reading this boring soliloquy
And yes that's a loner speaking when nobody is listening
I don't need alcohol to be slightly tipsy
There are many people who will find this uninteresting
I ask myself "who" because I'm still looking out
For that person inside that I lost long ago
I'm trying so hard, and I just want to shout
Because she's in there somewhere, and somehow I know.
Someday I won't care about how people judge
About who I am and who I want to be
And even now I say I don't give a fudge
But that's not true, don't you see?
I don't want to live my life as somebody else
A person that's not even there
I ask myself who I ask myself when
And, yes I really do care.
I want to be accepted as who I am
But first I need to find out who that is
A person is not something you can learn
Like an exam, a test, a pop quiz
It should be easy to know oneself
But I guess the jokes on me
Because I'll keep asking myself who I am
Until I find the key.