Not only me, but also a few other philosophical fools
Going to the West End philosophy school.
It is not that bad, the rest of the pupils are hopeful,
So a few fools cannot destroy this school.
Somehow that gives me some comfort,
That is much more than my old smoky ford.
When it breaks down so often I ask to the Lord,
Something better than this for me can you not afford?
Lord said, “It is good enough for retiring man, a retiring Ford”,
Still I hope that my suffering, one day, God will see.
Besides my Ford, most of the time my hearing fails me,
Which is making me a philosophical fool.
Who knows why still I go to that fashionable school,
Without a notebook or a brain maturing tool.
Try my best to hear and understand…
Nearly a quarter century till my physical end;
Without hearing how can I use my brain?
Noise, noise, noise; it’s making me confuse again,
Somehow, after the classroom, confidence I will gain.
Story of my dilemma will be in my next book,
Which is saying to my classmates:
As you can see I am late for philosophical faiths.
Take no notice of my confusing look,
Carry on with the yesterdays’ philosophical theory,
Which may show you the way to be free.
I don’t write every trivial thing in my book:
As long as our enigmatic teacher, Mr cook,
Is happy with my natural, un-poetic look.
He is a reddish philosopher and a teaser,