ignorantly we bend with the thistles,
whistling dixie out of both sides of the mouth,
lighting up our idiocy by our altruism for true south, the macabre,
and i am sad for us.
ignorantly we wail with the banshees, scrape our knees
embarrassing the company we keep.
had the sky holes i would hide in them and rain down the doldrums.
had the ground more pronounced cracks i would stick in the pins and jump in.