The world roils with lingam and yoni,
Breaking free of the mold and finding rebirth
Cut from the same stone we carry on
Getting weirder and weirder with every dawn.

Reaching deeper into the cookie jar we aged
Look into the mirror, see the old man's face
Do you ever feel this strangest feeling
That I feel when I stare at the ceiling?

When I question the aim of the tool
Which turns us all to drop-dead fools
When all we did was touch and go
And deeper still, we never know.