Hardshot: A Poor Old Wise Man

A poor old wise man saved his town
But his name's not written down
Since history books will never name us
Unless we are already famous.

Highshot: Fame

Fame

Fame
Fame is like the favoured gull that soars above the sand
Master of the wind and sky, condemned to never land.

Foulshot: Perfect Blue

Perfect Blue
A short rose bloomed in perfect blue
but no one saw its perfect hue.
The blue rose cried: can beauty be
if no one is here to see?
But no one heard the blue rose call
Are not blue roses like us all?