The chorus man tries to sway voices into his pocket,
he’s a nut with things higher than he’ll fully know.
Tell me chorus man, where is the arch of gold
at the end of my singing?
Do we talk enough about things we don’t do
or pass up enough bad to account for the shortness of your saying?
I don’t know chorus man,
your easy to blame.
From a high post you issue question,
and give some a good and bad
as lost as the men
with pages of the bible stapled to their heads.
You’ll make a claim about the day to judge,
Jesus will come back with a joint in his hand
next to Buddha eating egg-rolls
and Muhammad writing his thoughts in a cave.
Even they know the twist did happen
and what was once mystical
became a dialogue for governors,
or people with nothing to do.
You can know your nice, chorus man,
and your wife will stroke your hair
while your kids eat sweet chocolate,
no one blames your feelings.
It’s just in the grand schema
that your view is reversed.
The chorus line strikes the head not the heart
and we’re left wondering why it strikes at all.
This is no epic earthly separation
with one view on each pole.
These are acts void of sweetness,
no win to be had.
Hey man with no theistic views,
why is that spear in your hand?
Don’t tell me it’s for your brothers
reading the psalms.
They appreciate a mythology
you do not understand.
Both of you are in the places
both of you criticize.
The influences we felt
made us who we were,
that’s a function of it all.
It’s billions in the water, trying to push the tide another way.
Unlike the deer giving birth to a doe,
where all of it means nothing.
It’s simple respects and appreciations,
driving her existence and beauty.
don’t wake me up sunday morning
to throw eggs at the people listening above,
or the drive to a church for the newest sermon.
I am not interested.
Wake me up to see the baby doe,
eating some grass
against the backdrop of a rising sun.
