She stands like a statue;
and sit mourning the sick
She flies in vain and vague;
For she catches no glares.
Too sane to join the sick;
in a pit of dementia,
For fame they fight and kill
and laugh in light and fright.
Bless the dead and the mad;
whose bounds are uncuffed.
Cry the merry and the marched,
for having to walk in line,
in a wide open laissez faire
