He likes doing things.
  Doing things, he does.
Like getting mild electric shocks,
  And saying 'bizz' or 'buzz'.

And then in his accusing voice
  He'll say, "Who is to blame?"
They'll say it's him. "Yeah, me," he says.
  He's forgotten his own name.

He reads from story books for kids,
  In his wizard hat.
And wizard cloak and wizard beard.
  He says, "Now who is that?"

Or 'who is this?', he'll say to them
  While pointing at himself.
The kids all say 'it's you' to him,
  And 'do you have an elf?'.

He explains that owning elves
  Is not like owning dogs.
And elves are not the ones who live
  In Holland, wearing clogs.

The least that they could do, he thinks,
  Is tell him who he is.
He forms a plan to shock himself
  And then say 'buzz' or 'bizz'.

But no, scrap that. He remembers now.
  He's done that one before.
But it couldn't hurt to try again,
  Maybe just one more.

It can and does his fingers hurt.
  He says 'buzz' with feeling.
He tries to think of what comes next.
  He looks up at the ceiling.

He tries it all again with 'bizz',
  But answers aren't forthcoming.
He thinks and all the time looks up,
  But down it is he's dumbing.

He sighs and says, "That's that, I s'pose,"
  Resigned to being nameless,
Remaining just an 'I' or 'me',
  To always being aimless.

But even if he knew his name
  He'd lack variety.
He'd just be bored. He'd wear his beard,
  Trying to pretend to be

Someone else who has a beard.
  But that would bore him too.
If he knew his name he'd know
  He can't be me or you.

Walking down the street he meets
  A friend who says hello.
And after talking for a while
  His friend says, "Goodbye Joe."

After going home again,
  And plugging in the kettle.
He makes a cup of tea, pours the milk
  And sees it settle.

And suddenly it dawns on him.
  His name has just been said.
That little word that left his mind
  Is home in his own head.

All is well. He knows his name.
  A little dance, he does.
Unfortunately he seems to think
  His friend said, "Goodbye Buzz."