Tales of knave Ulysses
Who washed away his soul,
Lies anxious in the night
Tracking every poll.
Is he saved in troubled water
Where he chose himself to be,
If he is voted winner
How much safer is the sea?
If under daring sun
He is seen to drown,
His candidacy rejected
To wear a thorny frown.
Having waded far from land
Though he scream a diatribe,
Doomed by false impression:
A savior is his tribe.
Lost cause drawing cheers
To hide his heart broken,
Refusing love healing
Nature at last spoken.
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