Busy at home I was happy for a while But the joke is over Looking down At the carefully laid out infamy Take a scythe, take a scythe, To the rotting core Of man-vegetaton Now I sigh At the cool cool attitude to ignorance The look in your eyes When you gave this to me Just put me on my guard In this elegant chaos I stand to one side Shouting "ha" Was I forced into this? Or was it given to me? It's a nice idea - As a gift Or as something to try for a while 70 years? It's neither one thing or the other My big fear Is to dig it at last And have it taken away bridge, no real chords - so I made them up It?s not a problem of secrecy I take it in my stride Did I learn to breathe to be killed like this? Faces to the glass I see them televise my death Oh, and here comes the part Where I break down and cry. People I see Just remind me of mooing Like a cow on the grass And that's not to say That there's anything wrong With being a cow anyway But people are people With the added advantage Of the spoken word We're getting on fine But I feel more of a man When I get with the herd.
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