I Have No Wind

I sit on my pad, paddle with my pen, Race at a slow pace, but I have to win. But, I have no wind, and my sail is thin, Since I have no friends, just bottles of gin. Just bottled it in, the habit of men; The habit of men, the habit of sin! This rabbit has been on that wheel that spins, A trend that keeps spinning, and has no end. Therefore, it will not let me make amends. I bend, and break, and take it on the chin, Until they count to ten; Knocked out my grin, Then separated the frame from the lens, Then separated the son from his kin, Thus, left without the helping hands they lend.