• As death eludes the posse of our thought
    Which stalls in awe to shiver at the brink,
    The gnaut mythology which we've been tought
    Both cripples and corrupts the way we think.
    Instead of celebrating self alive
    With legs to roam the earth, and eyes to see,
    We're thankless for the chance to work and thrive.
    No joy is found inventing lock or key.
    No happiness or laughter swells inside
    To creshendo in oceanic bliss,
    To feel the spray blown off the turning tide
    Or greet the one who loves you with a kiss.
    Our conciousness, more than star in the dark
    Was meant to super-nova in huge arc.