looking outward, never in
the first to cast a stone
pile compassion in a bin
then bring your good news home
the fairest soul, your wife must be
to deal with your disease
if only she had eyes to see
the way you cut us at the knees
usurping calm and laughter's gift
each day sharpen your knives
with which you carve a human rift
that hollows all our lives
in soft, sad, quiet fits of life
he just doesn't know what's right
with judgment his thoughts are always rife
from reason he's taken flight
the application of humanity
make peace, not conflict hereabouts
desist with this calamity
your endless waves of doubt
who are you to think your moods
should dominate our days
if only you weren't so fucking rude
there still could be a way
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