because the mind isnt fit for the minor
the system fails to fail to flounder
but the grief and confusion we encounter
are relief and absolution if we bother.
for now the spiritual and the mental are never the center
we're just emotional renters in a forgotten land of blind senses and sensorers
we become the dispensables as we trade our denser jewels for air and numbers
and unabaited hungers- we run in our living slumbers and cheat
extolling virtue cumbersome and neat
we compete for a universe replete with all it's ever gonna be
trauma, toys and absolute deafening glee, expanse and calamity-
plastic ploys for herds set out for detour disturbed yet demure for sure.
we need small words and big eyes that see far sung choirs
woe for fundamental lies and liars
fear claims judgemental spies on empires
while inspirational pretenders sell union desires.
The Professional is typical of the fathers family
all is reciprocal, cash passed for belief blandly
intuition salaried into pilloried institution scandaling
trying to be manly and empty like the vast many dripping last pennies for a fast gimmie.
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