A man walking naked in the desert 
A patriot overlooking his people 
Two lovers sighing in the night 
A lonely bum on the street 
Do they make a difference? 
The naked man effects no one 
The patriot looks but does nothing 
The lovers, entwined, fall asleep 
The bum dies in the gutters 
Does anyone make a difference? 
Or are we all bums? 
We all live 
We all die 
And nothing seems to change 
Except our ideas 
Our ideas make us 
Mold us 
Control us 
They're the means and the ends 
To our existence 
They are our immortality