Gift of the Flame

By the ivory coast sits a man
 In a most angry pose
 He s wasting away
 As the buzzards peck little holes
 There s a boy by a pool
 Who simply can t move but to drool
 Staring ever in to a silly grin
 Trapped beside the pool
 And across the way
 There s a man who can t wait
 His stomach growls and he salivates
 Never to be satisfied, nor to die
 Hour by hour I wait for my flower to bloom
 It s a hideous black mushroom
 Odious spore of doom
 And I crouch by the glass
 In the underpass of the moon
 Wondering what s in store
 Beyond my bolted door
 And across the hall
 There s a man who just waits
 He s sick to death and he gives in to Fate
 Never does he try not to die
 By the ivory coast sits the suet man
 Still in chains as day by day
 The buzzard birds bite bits away
 And he sacrificed himself
 Stealing fire that we could tame