People call Lawrence a wicked monster...
He hasn't hands, rather claws like a lobster.
People are hurtful: they choose not to see
That he has feelings deep like you and me.
He'll crouch in the dark, all hollow inside,
Trying to hide from the taunts and the chides.
Bit of a beast in each of us, it's true,
So when Lawrence weeps, it's for me and you.
Our world cries for compassion. Peace to us all.