Many a time in my youth I wandered the streets
Drunkenly belting my song for all the world to hear.
Usually, I got picked up by the police
And put in the nut house for a week.
I fought hard for my song.
At night I'd sing it so that no one could sleep.
During the day, so no one could think.
Slowly, through much persuasion, my song
Began to quiet down.
Now a man, I stand here at this bus station
Whistling--not softly, as if to myself,
But not so loud that I get dirty looks, either.
Just loud enough to announce my song
To those around me, all the while hoping
That they are enjoying it
As much as I am.
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