Hair on the arms and legs

See him digging; see him weeding
Every single day of the year
Coffee at eleven; four thirty; tea
His security is built on routine

But inside his mind, there’s a lot
Going on
Planning the world but it just don’t
Do no good

I say; “What’s the use?”
Population; starvation; his mind keeps
Working hard
Ending wars, changing laws and all
Of them locked away

I say; “What’s the use?”
Population; starvation; his mind keeps
Working hard
Ending wars, changing laws and all
Of them locked away

In cessation, repetition funeral for
An age of decay
Meditation; deep frustration
Caused our hairy friend to die

Here lies a man
Who failed to escape
Filled his small head with the worries
That plague the world
I say; “What’s the use?”