The Man of Men
John Sullivan, a man among men
Digging digging, deep as can't show
Laying the dirt, for him for his home
The king's castle, for stature of stone
Caterpillars, creeping the low crest
Creeping writhing, creeping for his heart
They don't have far, a far journey's climb
So he crushes, crushes them on down
He can't crush far, a few inches deep
Pushing ploughing, his foundation weak
Hushing hushing, a few inches deep
So they stop slight, gathering their force
He doesn't see, magnitude and strength
Crushing them so, to his own expense
He doesn't see, they will not let him
He's clawing in, deep through his own skin
Caterpillars, creeping the low crest
Bursting blowing, from concealed caccoons
Cascading out, though a starving soul
Leaving a dark valley of husks
John Sullivan, a man among men
Digging digging, deep as can't show
Laying the dirt, for him for his home
The king's grave, for stature of sand
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