The world is crying all around,

and here you sit acting the clown.

To bring a smile to face so fair,

hardly seems to profit you

with it's care.

You fool who struts and puffs, pretends,

something that isn't meant to be,

you would defend.

The jester whose honor binds

you to the rules.

Are still a lonely funny fool!

The game that you aren't meant to play,

can make a sunset seem so grey.

The rust is showing, your armor dented,

the horse is lame, your manner demented.

You never learn you crazy fool,

that windmill's just the devils tool.

9/2/84