back in my old neighborhood
people were bad though they should have been good
they did not care that the world was ending
that was the statement they were sending
i wrote a message every day
such was my intrepid way
and stuck it on a telephone pole
but could not get through to them to save my soul
finally it was plain to see
they were all laughing at me
no matter what i said or pleaded
it was sadly all unheeded
success was not on the menu
i decided to try a change of venue
feeling, i admit, a bit forlorn
i left the town where i was born
to make my story short
i have nothing much to report
every place was just the same
the old soft shoe and the old army game
i met no angels with swords of flame
or heroes with resounding names
no wise men sitting under trees
expounding on life’s mysteries
one day beside a muddy stream
i awoke as from a dream
a butterfly floated through the air
just as if i was not there
am i here, i wondered
no lightning flashed, no thunder thundered
no tempest tossed me on a shore
but i knew i had been here before
the foam is the wave
the king is the slave
the spider is the fly
the tree is the sky
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