He watches the rain that falls unwitting
Of the people who shall scatter before it.
And he sees the people who treat their minds
To whatever may repose it.
For he's met all kinds of shady folk
And the ones that live in kind.
He's seen the ails and woes of men
And seen the same men shine.
But he sees himself within their place
And he hopes his hopes benign.
For at this time he sees his place
As one he shall not resign.
For there is no pure or divine
Amongst our giant shuffle.
There is just intent and wants to vent
And wickedness sublime.
And so he hops from next to next,
Any distance short or far.
And sees the men who walk or rest
And those who cower before their mar.
But no image enough, he has found
To rest his weary self.
And so he'll walk and watch and search
For a nook to base himself.