Why are some men born   With minds that earn degrees   The loving cups   Gilded plaques   Grace their study walls   Hide the cracks   While their genius is turned   To works of tyranny then   Off to market to market   Go selling these      With words so fiery and persuasive   They steal cunningly   Riches no one can exceed      And why are some men born   With a fate of poverty   One firm bed   For a swollen back   Year by year   The bodies wracked while   Their obedience is had   With gradual defeat   By the pace by the pace   And the urgency      Through a muddled thought   They phrase it   God knows we're deceived   Barter for   What they need      And where they go   Disdain and jeering   For fools to call   The noble peasantry      O how it puzzles me      I pressed flat the accordion pleats   That had gathered in his cotton sleeves   While he thumbed   Yes thumbed I wouldn't say caressed      The final piece   A mountain's crest   Soon to reply assuredly      O for man aged ninety years   No words to waste on sermons   He'd be pleased to answer   Short and sincere      Girl there's a nonsense   In all these heaven measures   It's a heathen creed   So your grandma says   But better to live by   Drink it all in before it's dry      He ended there with a rattle   Cough cough   I took away the long gone cold coffee cup   As a trail of Camel ashes fell   On the floor