In head thought

We men of thought

Find too much in head

Too often and too soon

Alive so much

That we wish and pray

And return fantasies

To a time of youthful deeds once dear

When the times were like grass

Ever growing and short

And the days were nothing to last

Mere drops of sweat

Running down a buzzed head

For this kind of thought

Had it yet to ne born

In me

Though now I love it somehow