The Lazy Pigeons

The Lazy Pigeons.


On rootops gilt with sultry sun,
Far from fox and farmers gun,
The lazy pigeons preen and coo,
Theres really nothing else to do.
Fat as Americans on a TV couch,
They flap a bit and hop about,
A few have sex whilst others sleep,
Or waddle finding food to eat.
Each one smug upon their perch,
Sitting pretty whilst I work,
Awing at will, fledged unfettered
They find freedom with their feathers.
Unbound by any laws or clocks,
Nor captive upon this spinning rock,
Each spends their time in leisure,
Seeking out their every pleasure.
They are really getting on my nerves,
I wish my life was like a birds.