We are tiny little ants, Living of plastic chants. Open your eyes and look closely, The life you're living is ghostly. Thy neighbour, you can smell, Whats wrong with that, I can tell. Space and time is what we need, To fully apreciate every deed. Paying with paper sweat, And living in hoarded regret. What are we, but plastic dreams, Wrapped in radiation screams.
Open your eyes and deviate to green, Artifical directions will never lead, Hunt for magic and rise above greed, Without it the world will be freed, Materialistic labor shall be plead, That is not the way we need to be, Maybe we should dance with the tree, Listening to the earth from root till seed.
I'm sat In my cafe coffee In hand trying to think what to write when a thought crosses my mind having lost my wife I wonder what God has In store for me what little surprises Waiting to jump out of my now sad and lonely life and bite me on the ***, perhaps a wake-up call
Thinking maybe ready for a wake up call perhaps over due