Somewhere past the elegant speeches. Somewhere past the fake persode. The truth in all its filth remains. Yet unrecognized. Nothing to strange, just odd.
Like pigs at play in the pen. Managing to enjoy the mud. Making the best of the situation. Recognizing the truth. Being human is in the blood.
Knowing the meat I eat came from the ground. For tell me what did the cow have for supper? The grass came from the dirt. Everything sustaining, no matter how it sounds came from dirt.
The fruit you eat came from the dust. The meal that made you think you would bust. It too, came from dust.
So tell me more about the reality you seem to forget. Cursed to crawl belly down. The smell of the earth so close. We are slaves to the dust no matter how it sounds.
The path was worn from the beginning of time. I know the truth can hurt. But we are as that we eat, I know it came from dirt.
Originally Posted On Site: 2010-07-05 07:39:34
Last Login: 01.30.12
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