I was whimsical as could me

Wallowing in self pity of my mediocrity

These corny rhymes These loony tunes

These hot Novembers these cold Junes

These paradoxes of singing oxymorons

These trumpets I blow these loud horns

I wanna be with someone apart from me

On the horizon my radar has no one to see

Under the tree and round the moat

To the cliffs behind the coast

I walk pondering why I ponder so much

When there is so much beauty left in the lurch