the shadows hide much in the
early morning light,
tripping through muddy puddles,
slipping on rotten roots,
welcome to the show,
where everything is made up it,
and the points don't matter,

pull out the roots first, wait
better start to toil with the soil,
empty all the dirt onto a tarp,
keep dumping and spilling,
it is a mighty big tarp to catch,
all the dirt and darkness from
that life, use your hands and
open up, give back the grime,
the slime you thought it was your
right to own, be human, empty
and start new, you could call it
a cleansing then add "do as often
as necessary", why so sad?

Oh I see, you say you got some dirt on me,
don't worry don't fret, that is my
dirt, my slime, my grime,
where do you think yours came from?

Shop-vac, paddle lock, give me a cell phone,
This old man ain't goin' home...
anytime soon. Everything is made up
and points don't matter...for it is only you
                                          that matters.