he's got a farmer's tan and a southern drawl
always picks up when his mother calls

lives and dies inside the coal mines
gives to charity in his spare time

hunts by himself for wild game to eat
because he can't stand industrialized factory-farmed meat

wears a leather jacket with a gold stitched title
looking ready to **** riding his motorcycle

and it's electric

**** this ****

we need to take our own land
build a house and live off the grid
no one gives a **** about the law of the land
we'll fight the law and well, we'll win

there's an old saying:
if you build it, he will come
and we'll be waiting
in our house with our rifles
making a sea of blue blood

senseless in slumber
oblivious to the world
forget existence as eyelids shut
into an abyss, the presence swirled
floating in nothingness
no thoughts or intention
sleep is the therapy
that's not often mentioned

sleep late and sleep in
been doin this **** too often

the late birds don't get no worms
just missed meetings and coffee burns

no more!

no more will we step to the beat of your drum
we have to subvert the circadian rhythm!

eyes open a smidge wider
fight to pull that all-nighter
whatever you do, don't think about yawns
head to the beach before the break of dawn!

nighttime won't stop us from taking a walk
the beach is a board and the sand is the chalk

clouds are colored cotton-candy pink
the horizon is skittles and the sky is a sink

the world is illuminated with purplish hues
as the seagull lord takes in the view

then suddenly,

this CIRCLE comes up from beyond the edge!
looking magnificently ever so orange and red!
it rises and brightens the oceanic titans
as the religious fishies are forever enlightened!

minds rejoice with a profound new wisdom
the circle has subverted our circadian rhythm!

i shout and i shout!
galloping spoons giving gobfuls
into gaping mouth holes

it's creamy n dreamy versus chunky n funky!
in the great grocery war
for the ******* junkies

monetize and institutionalize
is the way to gain the modern prize

marriage isn't affirmation of love
it's a 10-grand headache
as the IRS sits above

funerals aren't celebrations of one's life
they're ways for the fat cats
to profit off your strife

churches aren't for learning about god
some pastors make six figures
now isn't that odd?

you wonder why you're in so much pain
grasping at straws attempting to stay sane

unclench your palms from those useless umbrellas
go outside, and dance in the rain