Plumes of sacred feathers
Retired air force generals
Balancing against our wills
Handstands demand attention
Stand ***** and face the firing squad
What a load of garbage
Who are we to speak of this
You bring me to my knees
I resemble my father
And you take after me
Are we destined to swim
In uncertain territory forever
What are we aiming our minds at creating
Brands and businesses are fading
Instagram demons sweep through your basements
Bringing up subconscious lessons
From suitcases buried deep within our closets
The currency of yoga these days is spiritual bypass
As models and actresses become the norm as teachers
Robust beauties bouncing in their bedrooms
With ample bodices and bosoms all for sale