"I can't live the buttoned down life like all of you! I want it all: the terrifying lows, the dizzying highs, the creamy middles! Sure, I might offend a few of the blue-noses with my cocky stride and musky odor - oh, I'll never be the darling of the so-called 'City Fathers' who cluck their tongues, stroke their beards, and talk about what's to be done with this Monkey_Boy?!"

Oh, could I feel as I have felt, or be what I have been,
Or weep as I could once have wept, o'er many a vanished scene;
As springs in deserts found seem sweet, all brackish though they be,
So, midst the withered waste of life, those tears would flow to me.