My beauty spots
Go through seasons
Miles of skin
At different times
Scratched away

Music stripping away my identity
That's some facade
Like a woven basket
Tossed to the side
Too claim it's goodies

Unmalleable institutions
Of the mind
Trying to crack sense here
Trying to break the explanation there

It was Always a suppose
That gathered string inevitably
At all times
Physically speaking

But I don't believe in s science
Or maths

They can take the tractor and count
Sugar cane

Because without each other they lack a style