Yawning of brown land

under a white bluish sky

not a breath of breeze

Others is not my business
     scarcely I've time to mind my own
     much of life is distress
    the ubiquitous sigh and moan

     all that is, is one's alone
     he does well to avoid the mess
     of stretching beyond
     let others mind their business

    when I was a child
    I knew my world
    which was sweet and mild
     every moment did wonder unfold

   to that self-sufficiency
   I should dearly hold
   minding my own is the best policy
   let others have their stories individually told

I saw armies of women
ripping fetuses out from
their unprotected wombs
Then judges of men
Burning them to a cross
On newly
manicured lawns
Nothing to see here
But an eye for a busted eye
And coal dark skin
made a crime
Your unleavened bread will
not save you
Perhaps covens of nature
loving witches will…

He couldn't help it about the shape he was in. He couldn't sing , he wasn't pretty , and his legs were thin . "Oh Well" . No amount of "Black Magic Women" will bring him back again .
Now the "Albatross" glides over the sea of tranquility into the sunset .

There is no wear and tear
   Quite like the rebuilding of a man
      In the dark and quiet isolation of try
      Beneath it all
   These are the things nobody sees
His skies