Quiet man. Sit in the corner,
Pour your soul from strings.
Nervous man, wail in the corner
Like singing swarms of bees.
Happy man. Jumps front and center,
Loving all he sees.
Leaves the noise, fills up his center,
Peacefully at ease.
Growing up, going out.
Getting up, getting down,
Living with the breeze.
Be patient with the days you want
And those will follow these.
‘Doctor, man. Fix me, I’m older.
I am on my knees.’
Silence, boy. Wise is not older,
Breathe slowly like the trees.
Poor old man, chair in the corner.
Comes to him from me –
‘Wise old man, sing from the corner.
Rock away disease.’