I am having a crisis of confidence 
Like the ground has been swept from under me 
I am being pursued by dogs. 
The east wind has lodged in my gut 
The skin around my lips is cracked and sore
I planted myself near the grass roots 
It was parochial 
An aroma of polite misogyny about the old boys
Is this indicative of how it is?
               My non-conformist face really doesn’t fit – it never does
Maybe it’s just me?
I need a thicker skin and a sense of humour
               Perhaps I just haven’t earned it yet, baby

Further works:
There there - Radiohead