Maybe you’re mistaken
when you think about what’s out there,
You attribute ev’ry stimulus
to winged things from books,
Mistaking accidental circumstances
for essential causes,
There isn’t really anything
that God conveys with looks.
Perhaps it is hard to face the truth:
we’re just meat bags with will,
Which slowly rot away until
the day when we’re forgotten
Needlessly dissecting
every move and every inner thought,
Attempting to discover
what makes us all so very rotten.
Take a deep breath
And hold it in
Until you feel it all
...Fading away
Slowly toward death
All of us fall
Someday we’ll feel it all
...Fading away
Through my goat mouth, it’s true,
you can hear me bleating,
Like a little lamb who’s lambier
than lamby-lambs can be,
But yes in fact it’s bike tires,
and tin cans that I’m eating,
And I feel my goat heart beating
and... I want to flee.
