Of what use is the spider’s web
To a rain cloud, crawling?
Better to be a nail painted red
Or a mallet, falling?
When a guardsman marches on through
and hangs a bright old flag
Or how a child looks into you
and lifts you ’til you’re glad
Your song evokes a feeling, and
his dance provokes a thrill
Yet the watchers make no hand
The wallflowers sit still
I never find it so easy
to sing outside a choir
It strikes me as an unforced plea;
I name myself a liar
I think that I’d much rather be
a rain cloud than a spider
But then again, I’ve plenty seen
the lover slip the fighter