Tied Hands

I wish I could help
But I can’t, I can’t
I lack the autonomy,
Forced to plant
My feet on the bars
Of this creaking fence
And dole out excuses
Of common sense

Hey diddle diddle

My very own brand of silliness I patent here and now
For who else with a moon to jump would choose to be the cow?
Such effort here I do expend as mooing cosmonaut,
You’d think even a cat might care to spare me a retort?
But owls, though wise, and cats not shy pass by without a thought.
They no more do acknowledge me, than algebra, a nought.
So in my childish wisdom, spaghetti-o’s I buy,
And look to build a telescope with which to view the sky.