I'm camping through a storm
I am located in a northern field
Cut off from obligation
And the spectacle called man
By the grace of some invisible power
I manage my tragedies
Like an ancient sage
I put out my cup
To catch the rain
Then enjoy a flask of total purity
I complete the evening
Watch the shadows appear
Count the numerous bugs on the ceiling
And eat my tidy snap
My modest morsal
I plan to return to the land of market
And the seated beggar
He extends a hand
And when I pass without a murmur
He grumbles from his throat
He tells me ignorance is bliss
I feel the pang of unwelcome guilt
And still I pass
Without a moment's sacrifice
I even jangle the coins in my pocket
Audible enough to reach him
As I know he's just a dirty druggie
A man who robs the old
One who lies through his blackened choppers
And hopefully dies as he lived
By the prick
So many reaching across the square
Saying ignorance is bliss
As the folk cross over
Diverting their eyes
As if these muts these mongrels
Need not desist
Being invisible

I got my education
By loving such a dog
Such a stray canine who bled me dry
So there I am
Jangling my coins
Deriving pleasure from his consternation
I risk a mighty quarrel
Or even a physical attack
Yet I still cross with the rest
And my chilly grin stands my betrayer
As a warm heart is enclosed by my ribs
Yet I do not stir from my frozen face
My chilly grin
Nor my jangling

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