A scarecrow he is -
Waiting for love to fly by,
Land and stay with him.
What would I do without a mind?
What would I do without a society to shape that mind?
To influence it?
To taint it?
To glorify it?
What would I do without the memories of such glory and such tache?
An orphan on a deserted island, with nothing from the outside world,
save the produce of Nature which surrounds me.
I suppose I would be free....