It

It's not a thing
It's alive
It's not a plant
Though it often crawls
It can trumpet
Yelp and bark
Cackle whine
Chatter bleat
Troat and whistle
Or at least
Fill the air
With its ugly cries

So prone to swindle
Those of its kind
It shakes all over
Doesn't know why
Thinks it's immortal
But has to die
And when its end comes
It starts to cry

It strukes about like a King
Wriggles turns
Comes and goes
Works all day
Sleeps all night
When it doesn't work
It has to hide
Always…
Restless dance…
Restive it will never learn
All the things
It can not discern

So prone to swindle
Those of its kind
It shakes all over
Doesn't know why
Thinks it's immortal
But has to die
And when its end comes
It starts to cry
It shakes all over
Doesn't know why
And when its end comes
It starts to cry

It spreads around the sphere
Feeding itself with life
It can not understand
Shakes all over
Doesn't know why
Doesn't know why
When life
Takes it down a peg
It feigns
To be called
Chosen crowned

Thinks it's immortal
But has to die

It shakes all over
Doesn't know why t
Thinks it's immortal
But has to die