a thing I wrote that rhymes

Will there be an Uban still
Or is that something Time will kill
I do not know, I cannot say
I’ll let my compass lead the way
To be in Stockholm or would it be a bore
Or Sarajevo and another war
Or perhaps a century in Nancy
Or a refugee in Germany
Is it simple mathematics or destiny
A crazy monkey with a broken knee
And a pig in the pants of a clown
A witch in a bridal gown
So many books, yet so little brain
With Future approching it’s hard to stay sane
Time is a bitch and my story unreal
Life a very unfortunate wheel
And the only truth it possesses, you see
Is that eight is always less than three