Who will drink the water when it spills over abundantly
is it the shackled or the master that owns the overflow
in a forest most forgotten and apart from all redundancies
the garden with no planner may to some seem overgrown
but then who should own the earth in all of it's entirety
to beat back all discomfort and measure out the lines
the masters and the peasants change their places violently
still subject to nature that they'd sworn to leave behind
those who write the rules yet are not subject to such majesty
go caging lowly creatures who are born right in the way
if you would use your wisdom to achieve some newer travesty
I hope your path is love or that you leave it where it lay