Oh what a day to breathe

What a life to lead

Another breath to take

Another heart to cleave

Another day waking up pre-emptively

With pity for the sleepy who won’t wake with me

Who’ll wake with brand new green to see

Eyes closed to the fields they long to see

Their eyes wide shut, and how they crave the dark

And how I hate the tone by which our fields are marked

With wheat and weeds

As far as I can see

Oh to be a man young at heart

To be a boy old at mind

Pitied for starkness while I pity the blind

Who cling to the wisdom of the sight-deprived;

The sun is scorching, better hide inside

Better to brave the ground than to risk the sky

Better not to reach lest you try to fly

And invariably fall, and lament you tried

Wait till you’re old and grey to turn to fishing

Strive for a hive with many pots to piss in

Hasten to hades if it boosts your business

As dead men walking, live omitting stillness

Witlessness

Twistedness

All to follow murals of old traditions

Made by the wise passing down their sickness

We lament as they did because we’re so suspicious

Of filthy heathens

And their words of treason

Oh why have we the eyes to see

But the minds to wander sleeplessly?

Why must the shallowest desires be

Hallowed with smiles as the deepest pleas?

We’re born to dance with hearty feebleness

To sing our hymns in times of neediness

To pierce our flesh for a rush of deviance

And bleed out fast to ensure we bleed less

It’s all that breaks us

From our trance;

To find a high

With no substance

All that breaks me

From my trance

Is getting high

No substance