Contrasong

Gazing quite vacantly into space one day sitting up in my bed
surrounded by a few Sunday papers and their colour supplements
all of them superficially interesting happily unaware that somewhere
somebody was aware that somewhere somebody was awake
and well undisturbed living on

Glancing quite speedily through assortments of horrible illustrations
of atrocities and apologies of editors but they felt it was necessary
for people to see the pcitures on no account were they attempting
to boost their paper's circulation I felt a wave
closed my eyes which was worse

Nevertheless I was I suppose quite at ease at home
with my food brought up at intervals to my bed with all the sympathy I could want
and with all the time in the world to write thank-you letters to
all the people kind enough to send Christmas presents
when they knew I was really very insignificant