Rats Don't Run for Fun

You say I'm the rat;
I say I'm the wheel.
No cage could hold me in
or halt the way I feel.
I invented love on your behalf;
Apollo played his harp;
Rome and Greece burned down
as I serenaded in the dark.

You say I'm the rat;
I say, well, look again.
My tail is gone, as you see,
and my tale doesn't have an end.
Seven years will pass,
famine will take hold of Earth,
but I will eat my hoard of grain
while I wander, wait, and curse.

You say I'm the rat;
I say the rat is dead.
Scientists will come and go,
but I'll just go to bed.
I put on clothes, my Sunday Best,
to worship gods that are not there.
I ran upon my wheel till dawn
and realized that no-one cares.

~01/2008