the gallopingly bad ballad of free

The Ballad of Free

In Oaxaca where weeds grow tall
There lived our gentle Free;
The wind was not so fast as he
The air was just as free.

He grew up lean and nimbly as
Strong, sweet Mexican corn;
But his parents separated
And his life turned forlorn.

He moved to California,
But found it frustrating.
He and his mom could not afford
The high cost of living.

Soccer was freedom in high school.
He kicked, he jumped, he ran.
But nights brought pain; he sold cocaine
And so the end began.

Running track freed our hero Free,
But sports could not save him.
He tried to survive day to day
But life yet seemed grim.

Till he went to Bard joyfully;
College; drugs, dance and song.
Friends abound, Free ruled his earth
With laughter he’d skip wide and long

Yet Free’s world turned tragic at once;
He loved photography.
He couldn’t pay for film to shoot
His teachers grew angry

He smoked and drank and whirled about
While his family fought.
The college put him on warning;
His problems thus were wrought

He helped sell drugs to make ends meet
But could not concentrate.
His carefree way of life was now
Caught up in his dark fate.

Security did take his name;
His troubles made to crimes.
He talked with Deans and teachers all
Yet got no help in dimes.

His grades were poor but just as bad
As sons of richer men.
So clearly money drove the school
To kick him out right then.

Against all good he was asked
To leave his bright new home.
His best of chances removed
He cried, and went back home.

-by brosephine (i think)