Oblivious to systems breakdown,
we say and do the standard things.
(be)
Planet Earth’s a frontier boomtown –
Pray to give the idiots wings.
A magical adaption hovers
in a corner, some damn where.
(here)
It calls the fighters, and all the lovers
to circle round and clear the air.
You’ll hear a psst from in a shadow
and see a face with a broad open heart.
(now)
The higher mind lives in your marrow
to guide you over the crags of art.