Paranoia stalks me
through the streets,
the park, the fairground,
the crowded beach.

I try to make myself
hard to see
because I think someone
is after me.

In a stripy shirt,
bobble hat, glasses,
I hide amongst
the unwashed masses.

Why they want me
I do not know
but I keep on moving;
I must not slow.

So I wander lonely
as a cloud,
choose the company
of the crowd.

I pray that there
will never be
a Malthusian
catastrophe.