good mourn, my folks and fellows last
and future friends forgotten
the tips of tales, the rimes of past
a new idea begotten
to pull the scale to twist the pen
to eat and drink and merry
to fall from grace and live again
the rich and dark and scary
a time would like to vastly differ
the opining of a gentry
the past assaults upon my liver
the makings of a century
sing songs of joy and love and sex
and dance around the table
the causes all but for effects
an old and tattered fable
but when will end our troubled minds
and what at last will find them
upon the tall stung power lines
we break the tie that binds them
Thank you. I did something. I'm OK with it.
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