we simple men are innocent
never to be violent
never to extend to the sky
with a cry of presence waning

we don't get a line in bold
when our history is told
we just kind of get old
and die more or less politely

no need to expand our breath
on clever words in scheduled speeches
the world's callused ear has long gone def
and the stew of egos flourished

bleeding quietly in the shade
where many babies were once made
we simple men contend for air
with flies that anxiously look for shit