Like all the sharp stones,
get thrown up on the beach,
Worn by wind and water,
Into soft, rounded edges,
Lambs to the slaughter.

Wisdom within reach.
Not with hate-preach.

Best to be wishy-washy,
And learn to be wise.
Scrub knowledge from stone,
The fastest way to glory,
To get the best prize.

For in the end what counts,
Is not fortune and fame,
But to live your life well,
And keep your good name.