My home is not this planet earth;
I've come from far above the sun.
I wrapped myself in robes of flesh
because I had a race to run.
Pat recently sent him a bubble-maker to be attached to his 10-speed bicycle. See him wheeling down the road amidst a cloud of bubbles;
His white locks flying in the breeze, he's shedding all his troubles.
He cares no whit for cheers or jeers that follow in his wake
For the roads he chooses differ oft from those the other take. The birds on wing look down in awe. "He's just our kind of guy,