The bush that I beat around
is round and profound and its not attached to the ground but,
it seems to pound aloud the sound of..
the birds and the bees and the flowers and the trees
and the water that we all drown in.
If I could climb the tallest mound
in the smallest town
and sing aloud
as if I scaled the Everest Mountain.
And if he talks down on my leaps and bounds
would you be proud to stand around him?
I astound the clowns who wear the crowns and silly gowns
behind a shroud of sirens.
That claim the grounds of their compound
and are aroused by accounts of violence.
And as the body count arises...
The people around, in silence
while the clowns burn down the city now
Oh, how we've all turned out so mindless.