Sometimes it's me, but less than some think
That doesnay agdee, on the soothsaying brink
Sometimes it's you, in a fit of compulsion
As a 'hot head' ensue, to reactive revulsion

And sweet anonymity's voice from the dark
Gives the proclivity of wrongness a mark
But really, my friends, is this such a suprize?
For that wrongness depends on the need for disguise

So be well, compatriots, believe in good things
We've all welcomed idiots, and untied their strings
And a thread isn't bread, but tis good food for thought
So instead let's be fed, for the wrong can be taught!
ttr