The Cheshire Cat Just Laughs

It's a coarse and bawdy lot of wastrels
and we're collected from the dregs
where comforts are small delectations
without the keening lamentations
of those we will never be
crying, 'How can we break free?'
But we really have no care
They are not anywhere
it matters
in our lives.

They hate our fucking language
but it isn't their despair
We sing for no fucking reason
sometimes just because we're there
and the opportunity does come
the notes have got to fly
and here we have our freedom
It's never going to die
in this place
right here

Just now we can have a chorus
since there isn't any meter
it floats as a will o' wisp
a tendril in the mist
and we can pretend it's art
but the Cheshire Cat just smiles
It's funny, after all
for all the games we play
that fucking cat will be laughing
when we get to the end of the day.