There are no prizes for being sensible
Or for survival
Nothing better than seeing a happy face
That reveals nothing of the battles
Behind its travels.
Creeping along bit by bit
We're meant to cohabit
While we have the chance,
Let go of old clichés and
Bad habits taught
By those that knew no better.
Is it anybody's fault that they get the attention
And you don't?
The artist‘s way need not be
The struggle of a martyr
Nor follow rules
There's nothing wrong with being a worm.
It worked in ‘07
If anyone was watching.
I quite like election night
Counting polls, doing statistics
And hurling obscenities at the laggards
Quicker than you can say
Mackerras pendulum,
I'll wait while you Google that.
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