Let's say, we're beautiful. Let's claim, we're lovely.
We must have said it more than once before. Must have repeated it a million more times hence. But let's hush this time, listen to the quiet. See, instead, what we can find out--
Haven't we spent our time turning ourselves into beautiful messes.
So you're just indulgent, impulsive, and unreliable. I'm only cruel and crass and careless. And, in the end, we only try to make a lovely dance out of it, you and I. We've got charts and diagrams and all the steps set up in place, just as long as we get the rhythms right, then our dance should turn out just fine...
But really, you're still wetting the bed while I'm still messing on the floor. Then, we leave it there for someone else to take notice of it. And tomorrow, when someone gets sick of it - they'll do their best to clean up our pretty little mishaps.
Toms and Daisys, that's all we are. Expending energy painting ourselves up with layer after layer of ugly masks from all sorts of places - feathers from here, beads from there, paint from across the sea, wood from around the world. And aren't we proud of ourselves when we're done, when we're painted and covered, as safe as can be. Don't we smile and congradulate ourselves.
Don't we claim we've still yet some purpose to us? Don't we claim some far-off god says he "loves" us? Can't we prove we're all from righteous blood, all from perfect descent, all from well-calculated evolution that makes us more perfect every single day?
Darling, I think I'm beginning to see; beginning to think maybe our holocaust is complete.
-Rk
Haven't we spent our time turning ourselves into beautiful messes.
So you're just indulgent, impulsive, and unreliable. I'm only cruel and crass and careless. And, in the end, we only try to make a lovely dance out of it, you and I. We've got charts and diagrams and all the steps set up in place, just as long as we get the rhythms right, then our dance should turn out just fine...
But really, you're still wetting the bed while I'm still messing on the floor. Then, we leave it there for someone else to take notice of it. And tomorrow, when someone gets sick of it - they'll do their best to clean up our pretty little mishaps.
Toms and Daisys, that's all we are. Expending energy painting ourselves up with layer after layer of ugly masks from all sorts of places - feathers from here, beads from there, paint from across the sea, wood from around the world. And aren't we proud of ourselves when we're done, when we're painted and covered, as safe as can be. Don't we smile and congradulate ourselves.
Don't we claim we've still yet some purpose to us? Don't we claim some far-off god says he "loves" us? Can't we prove we're all from righteous blood, all from perfect descent, all from well-calculated evolution that makes us more perfect every single day?
Darling, I think I'm beginning to see; beginning to think maybe our holocaust is complete.
-Rk
1 Thought(s):
What everyone forgets is that evolustion is simply change. It takes no moral standing of always being positive change and quite easily can be negative change.
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