On my pony and trap with a pipe in my mouth and wearing a cap
I am gaining on evolution
a solution I see
revolutionary
in the eye of a storm laden cloud I will be
restructured
cut down to base and relaced with the strings of a heavenly bow
and you
will
narrowly miss the arrows of kisses I'll fire because evolution's not perfect and things need direction a bit more perfection and two minutes on the slow cook
according to the book
written by monks with tonsures and placed into the trunk of an elephant
elegant really
totally unexpected and something else not quite perfected but we try as best as we can.
I feel that Lear lingers near me and peeps over my shoulder
whispering words in my ear
that's Lear
and he's getting bolder with tales of mad cats and of men smoking pipes sat in pony and traps
he's quite mad you know
but friends are hard to find and you've got to take them as they come
mad or not
Lear is fun.
So off I go with my bow in my hand and another in my hair just to complete the ensemble
and they all clap me on except Lear 'cause he's gone
fishing for raindrops.