there's no relief

from flower to flower the hummingbird will flit
seeking the nectar to sustain its flight
while i can't find the truest vein of wit

there's no place now that is not hotly lit
by a harsh searing hateful sort of light
from flower to flower the hummingbird will flit

you seek in vain to find the place where split
the rock and water gushes into sight
while i can't find the truest vein of wit

up on the branch a cawing crow may sit
its voice announcing both envy and spite
from flower to flower the hummingbird will flit

you think that i just do not have the grit
to sit down on my arse and simply write
while i can't find the truest vein of wit

the fact is this you're simply full of shit
you have no purpose and your mind's not bright
from flower to flower the hummingbird will flit
while i can't find the truest vein of wit