We are an old soul, with a young heart.
A grounded individual with large wings, soaring high in our dreams, only to crash next daylight
So as we sleep, we ponder
And we give thanks to the bread we break
It melts on our tongue
Not reaching our ravished, hungry tummies
Crying foul for capitalism unfair
But those are only words
Which we eat
and we chew
And we listen
And we grow full from the promises our forefathers sung
The foot does toil
the hands filled with callouses
The dry, rabid mouth
Speaking of sticky, sickly sweet words
We look through the drool, and then we see God
in the mirror.
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