No Title
My blood sugar drops./ No longer in tip top shape. In a dazed state, I underrate the truth in
every word./ I wish my song was as beautiful as that of a birds./ And my connection to the
earth, was as strong as that of a worms./ We live our lives afraid of germs: microscopic
beings we can't disturb./ Unable to control that which is not seen./ Irradiating the seeds to
everything green, so that when the heart of a child sings, they won't know what it means./
They've been transformed into spritually impaired sentient beings. In love with superficial
things./ Blinded by the idea that love resides in a pair of expensive gold rings./ Deaf to the
lullaby that mother earth sings.
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