The chameleon

The chameleon's a reptile weird,
Now I don't mean he has a beard,
His crimes are of a kind more grim,
Hold on, you'll soon know all his whims.

His tongue he can't seem to hold,
In spite of several rolls and folds.
Maybe it fights inside his mouth,
Till at a mantis it's let out.

He's fickle when he has to pick
A shade with whom he would stick,
I truly hope he paints himself,
He'd spend a fortune on someone else.

Yet he is not completely mad
Even though I've made him look so bad,
He has an empathetic side
Under that colour-changing hide.

He knows the value of freedom,
So in his infinite wisdom,
He gives a free rein to his eyes,
While one eye strolls, the other flies.

Time tied to his leisurely tail,
He makes it waltz in his slow trail,
While the world steps up on its pace,
He still lives in a previous age.