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I was lost in the grandeur of my name Set upon a stony path Full of thorns and hypocrites A weighty road with walkers Trampling over flowers and thickets Thick with tricks Blood boiling on golden bricks Barbed wired fences Flags and floats paraded Common sense Ignored Deplored Considered a bore But before the end Maybe I will find the truth Isn’t she great That cow That spits sand from her utters Fat and flaccid bovine Munching on grass Spitting out a calf At equal intervals That trapped beast Not the real thing Just an illusion Bell around her neck So she can never step Too far away from her field Ready to be killed Without an ounce of awareness
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Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 1:19 PM UTC
America Two Of A Million Metaphors
I was lost in the grandeur of my name Set upon a stony path Full of thorns and hypocrites A weighty road with walkers Trampling over flowers and thickets Thick with tricks Blood boiling on golden bricks Barbed wired fences Flags and floats paraded Common sense Ignored Deplored Considered a bore But before the end Maybe I will find the truth Isn’t she great That cow That spits sand from her utters Fat and flaccid bovine Munching on grass Spitting out a calf At equal intervals That trapped beast Not the real thing Just an illusion Bell around her neck So she can never step Too far away from her field Ready to be killed Without an ounce of awareness
graff1980
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Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 1:19 PM UTC
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