Self-made cartographers pawn off maps
Well highway dreamers lay on vestal laps
Few wander and less adapt
Still the many feel lost and most all feel trapped
Inside reality though outside all the while
The home of the common man, the serpent’s grip
Constricts the vision tighter with each corrupt sip
Of a vacuous grail, down the ebullient lip
Still leaky faucets of skeleton’s drip
Caveats of stiff reasoning and erudite reptiles
Yet with eyes of Argus and reasoning of Till
We set out spurning law to grab our fill
And we pillage and rape and claw and spill
Seeds, Roots, Nectars, sweet exploding daffodils
The power of the cosmos with the swat of a hand
Yes, with minds of Bahloo and hissing brains
We balance between loss and gain
Though the rattle obscures joy and pains
We lean on abstract saviors and canes
Well the soils message is all we need understand
Your counting wrinkles, determining enemies and allies
Selling heartbeat, touch, and all that gratifies
Buying electricity, flaming desires, and apple pies
No bread crumbs mark your trail, only silenced cries
The more we feel the dying, the more the beat is clear
The disjointed melody of fear, snakes alive, snakes alive
The call to return to Eden, to Mecca, to amour
Stifled by strangling knowledge and shadowed by pallor
A place which all steady in heart and consciousness are sure
Is in the desert sun and the sweet rain that pours
But when the earth is fed, yet we still fear to die
Our clean, guilty soul writhes, snakes alive, snakes alive
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