Just Lines Poem by Andy Wood

Where are they now?
Dead big fish in a little mill pond?
Or small fry, just getting by?
Is that how they wound up?

Either way,
They sang real bad.
No big deal -
A storm served in a teacup lad.

By ahistorical cock-up,
Major names are born.
Playing cards meant for us -
But tables often turn.

Wash your decks down, prepare again -
For neverending is this story.
Maybe now you're it…
Mori a Sancto Graali.