It doesn’t make much sense to me
To claim some bogus victory
Or just pretend that who you are
Is so important by much far
Who cares if one’s the simpler sort
If complications count for nought.
I’d rather be a bird on wing
Who joins his species in birdsing
Than stand upon a mighty stage
With those who are the latest rage.
They curry favor all life long
By singing out song after song,
Instead of praising God the King
Who has created everything !
