28 October 2012
It's not much fun when you're a sheep, The only noise you make is 'bleat', The shepherds tell you what to do, You follow when the plan's askew.
Your field is made of pounds and pence, It's bought, mind you, at your expense, The grass is green, the grass is plastic, Your mind works like soft elastic.
Every sheep is one small piece, In every plan that they release, And if you travel with the flow, You're never really in the know.
Sheep • Opuss № I