Troubles

Everyone's got them. Troubles. Even the lofty.

But for us who aren't so lofty, for us who are caged, it ain't so nice.

See, they got pillows, they have. Can cushion the blow... But when you ain't got none, all there is are concrete and bricks.

And sand, but it's ever so dusty.

That's why I like it when I can dig myself a little hole in a garden. Sleep like the animals do. Like the squirrels all cosy in their trees, except

except

oh

Not everyone has a tree, neither.

It's all rather perplexing.