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fine items they perish, and tall structures rot, so smile and cherish, what few things do not

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cut wood dragged sawed it and stacked it up high, this whorphan feel bad for him root that did die

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the paint has all peeled and the foundation leans, he once wheeled and dealed but now just stares at screens

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not kind words nor pleading can change minds set firm – birds don't even stop if their meals fight and squirm

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the president's silly, removed from it all, forgets Wounded Knee but remembers Stonewall

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the fat kid who labors, uphill with a pail, just proves to his neighbors, he's too big to fail

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born once of love, but cloaked now in sadness, this mind I lease yearns for howling wild madness

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the way it has beckoned, the secrets they've laughed – from slumber awaken, and stay on the path

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the teachings are simple, yet I doubt and stray, concern for this coil – and fear – hold yet sway

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the treasures keep coming, from box crate and hold; for shame they're all moldy, unwanted, and old

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my nails are all chewed but my soul it is calm, I credit Lao Tzu and not one single psalm

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my tea has gone cold and it's chill on the stair, I shall be so bold – let's retreat to your lair

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the forked tongue sounds sweetest, when it spews its lies, the hopes of the young are the first place it tries

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the answers are many, the queries but few, we want not for pennies: we don't speak but do

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where has gone that danger, that we all once knew, this lull is a downer, like yesterday's stew

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their mouths spew much anger, for pigskin they pine, just who are these strangers, all dear friends of mine

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the larder is empty, the cupboard is bare, we once bathed in plenty, now flirt with despair

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the good times were here but they've come and gone passed, we'll finish this beer and get back to our task

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Athena she blesses, that Golden State flag, she cures us of stresses, and lifts hopes that sag

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the ax it did slip and cut into my meat, I watched the blood drip well ashamed of my feat

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I ride on my bike through both rain and sunshine, to keep my mind sane and my bum well defined

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the words do elude me, this morning and most, perhaps I need coffee, or dead fish on toast

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those rich men aren't running, but that's no surprise – let's confuse their cunning, and choke-slam their lies

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I'm not in the mood now, so please don't you force me, beware this is real life, where there's no CTRL Z

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the staff has gone home and the stables are bare, so reheat some soup and do your own damn hair

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raise ye him mizzen, and sound ye twice noon, for Django is unchained, and we'll see him soon