Busy at homenI was happy for a whilenBut the joke is overnLooking downnAt the carefully laid out infamynTake a scythe, take a scythe,nTo the rotting corenOf man-vegetatonnNow I sighnAt the cool cool attitude to ignorancennThe look in your eyenWhen you gave this to menJust put me on my guardnIn this elegant chaosnI stand to one sidennShouting “ha”nWas I forced into this?nOr was it given to me?nIt’s a nice idea - nAs a giftnOr as something to try for a whilen70 years?nIt’s neither one thing nor the othernMy big fearnIs to dig it at lastnAnd have it taken awaynnThe look in your eyesnWhen you gave this to menJust put me on my guardnIn this elegant chaosnI stand to one sidennIt’s not a problem of secrecynI take it in my stridenDid I learn to breathe to be killed like this?nFaces to the glassnI see them televise my deathnOh, and here comes the partnWhere I break down and cry.nnPeople I seenJust remind me of mooingnLike a cow on the grassnAnd that’s not to saynThat there’s anything wrongnWith being a cow anywaynBut people are peoplenWith the added advantage nOf the spoken wordnWe’re getting on finenBut I feel more of a mannWhen I get with the herd.