On a day that we have firmly
Set aside for knocking off the
Neighbour’s loudspeaker blasting
Out its religious rigmarole to deafen
Us, and make babies weep, then
to burn up every word we
Have written because it is lousy
And have given up on everything
And everybody that stinks or smells
Or bites or bruises, or just maddens
Along comes a tribe of red roses, to
Coax us to let the sun warm us up
Before we surrender to mayhem!
Mayhem couldn’t care less about us
So why not just be happy for a spell?