I'm on a tree as you can see,
I've been a pariah for some time.
My bengali kith and kin hate me,
The ground a hazardous clime.
Ghost is past that's me fast,
The way the world spins.
Full of goons and tycoons,
Outrageous their sins.
A sinking hole damaged soul,
In the dark I'm my own monarch.
But my day is never okay,
The din of this old park.
I stay away and this way,
I am safe with my books.
My laptop is here with me,
Anachronistic is how it looks.
But I assure you, of the few,
Mad men on this slimy rock.
I'm not the kind that harms,
Nor do I wear any frock.
I like to be me, a hairy man,
Someone a crowd displease.
I know not when my head is hot,
Or when my farts smell cheese.
Just the way I am often a clam,
With the lids shut tight.
In the day I sleep very well,
I am a tiger in the night.
