For a While

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Slowdough

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Here's an ode to all my kin
Written by drinking wine
The words I might regret
I'd erase 'em for a while; and
Jot them down again
When I get back the time; and
If I do, I'd sell my soul to the great unknown; and
Have nature take it's place
In places we can never explain
To try out the mainstream; and
Not sell out
The stereotype fits; but
It's not for us
It's not the type of staircase we'd choose
Not for our worn out shoes
We'd still be the same; and
Probably change our name
To something cooler
Like Jesus, Mohammed, or Buddha
 
You should know if you would want to belong
In a world of made up drugs
Was this setting made for us? Or are we destined for
Something more, some what larger than this scale
Only to follow a rhythmic pattern so informative
My only knowledge base is my basis of life; and
Life is what I make out of my cluelessness and strife; and
If it weren't for my worn out shoes
You'd probably mistake us for
Jesus, Mohammed, and Buddha

And my diet; prayers, & sushi, & nonsense; but
It tastes really good
Like little bits of bitter paper enhancing visuals & the mood
So much in my mind they call me strange, 'cause I'm in this race, not wanting to win
You're in it for the kicks
They're in it for the pics on Instagram
Oh, did I say that right?
Yeah, I'm a self-righteous prick
Like this cosmic needle
Poking holes in your logic
Words are harsh; but
The truth is vitamins for the soul
Before we go home
You gotta kiss the sun goodbye; and
Wave to the moon "Hello"
Hello...

Jesus, Mohammed, and Buddha

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