i left a trail of mediocre work
behind for the wolves to starve on
and wonder what kind of man has been there
and how he had gone

in spite of the critical comments and glances
from the most-likely-to-be-successful crowd
i went on doing what i knew was most likely to be fruitless
but i felt i owned the hope that shredded doubt

over cheap wine with predators and prey
i played with the power of clashing worlds
and danced around the topics of the day
leaving little for the wolves when i went away