mock on, mock on, rimbaud, verlaine
sitting in a cafe watching the rain
as the poor working man passes by
with a load on his back and a tear in his eye
a million of them for every one of you
as carefree as when the world was new
when clouds sang in the breeze
and apples laughed in the trees
then the shadow of cain
fell across the plain
the lions roared
and the pterodactyls soared
abel was the first poet
sitting behind a tree
as cain marched off to war
to glorious victory
the sounds of battle in the distance
like the buzzing of bees
the poet dreams a line or two
and his head falls on his knees
a butterfly floats by
on wings of pink and blue
history is born in a lightning cloud
maybe not for me or you
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