There once was a man who was full of despair-
his heart had been broken. He sat on his chair
and kept thinking 'dear god- does it have to be me?
I have done nothing wrong- what's the point-don't you see?'

The question kept flying around in his head
until he did wish he was already dead;
When that didn't work, he went upstairs to sleep,
he kept tossing and turning and tried to count sheep.

Next morning, the question had not dissappeared-
still there, and much stronger than ever he feared:
He looked at his hands and woke up. "What is that?"-
for right there, in his hands, was a thing- round and flat.

It looked like a sickle- a handle, a blade;
the man was not sure of what stuff it was made.
He got out of bed, left the house, and went on
to talk to the priest at the church of St. John.

The priest told him all he did know about god,
and about mortal sin, and the devil: Of fraud
and deception, of angels and Saints and of such-
but none of that helped him along very much.

So he left the church, and went on down the road,
'til he came to the government-palace. He thought
"Maybe they know a little bit more about this".
So he asked "could I speak to the President, please?"

The President talked of political things-
of communists, fascists and Dominos. Rings
which held down the nation like shackles and such-
but non of that helped him along very much.

Another bit further, he took a right turn,
'til he got to a building which looked like an urn
which people keep ashes in. Outside, it said
on a sign: "Department of fear"- in blood-red.

Inside was a General, who told him of threats:
Of scary things: Enemies- fascists and reds;
of people who want to invade and of such;
but non of that helped him along very much.

And finally, he did arrive at the park;
He strolled down a path, while the song of a lark
did accompany him. He was tired of all
and just wanted to sit on a bench near the wall.

He sat and did notice a woman: Right there;
she seemed lost in thought, he did notice. Her hair
did cover her eyes, so that she could not see
that he sat beside her. He thought "who is she?"

And then he did notice that in her right hand
she held a familiar object: The land-
and the whole world seemed to dance round in a twirl
'til she noticed him. "Are you alright?", said the girl.

He silently held up his own question-mark;
then she held up hers. The song of the lark
it was still in the air- as they took the two things
and held them together. They looked like two wings...