Neither Brave nor fearless
The oldest roots of man
The terror and the fury
Guide his shaking hand
No champion roar of triumph
Only desperate howl and shriek
He has not reasoned purpose
But moves crouched upon his feet
His voice is not yet social
He hunts and eats alone
He scrambles with hands outstretched
He has not reasoned stick or stone
Oh what a wretched creature
Oh the things he could yet be
For every primal uncouth feature
Is the man inside of me