There are mysteries to me

Cats, large, smell-less, unpurring and wary
Could be sneaking around Stevie Wonder’s house, making things disappear

We have our own cats
That thing we do, we always do, we shouldn’t do

Beyond a blind spot – there’s a deafness of the soul

The maids have conversations:
Do we tell Mister Wonder that a cat licked his toothbrush?
No, let’s just rinse it or get a new one

Hey! Your soul is deaf! You can’t hear me even say that, but I wouldn’t say it anyway

Because my soul is deaf too