The green man:
I always see him walking,
just beyond my crimson feet
to a place I'll never know.
My hands are red,
my feet are red
and I prefer to stand.
I can never quite catch him,
no matter how hard I try.
I wait and I stare
at impatient faces,
impatient feet
and impatient hands
groping,
STABBING
that button they depend on.
I know,
I accept,
they want me gone.
They want the green man.
He is loved,
because he walks.
He is the Pied Piper,
right across the road.
