In my seemingly mindless endeavor
To prove to this world I care
I often stop to have a nip
And at the walls I blankly stare
Interrupted by an obnoxious
Beer laden philosopher
I say hold your vile tongue sir
For I need not your drunken slur
For t’is not the purpose of my being
To enlighten thee of life
Nor to judge your carefree ramblings
Or tales of drunken strife
For I too am but a pauper
In the guise of a person
Who’s seen the foolhardy ramblings
Of the cities and their queens.
