He gets up, 5 year old hair, messy with grease and dirt.
He tastes the dirt, he doesn’t know the hurt.
How could he differentiate comfort and harm,
when comforts are nonexistent.
A primal drive fuels the endless march,
for hunger, there exists one cure.
And for this little boy, his march for cure
Is the soul shattering work of a dog whose never taste a bone.
An unfortunate reality of the world
isn’t something to bore or ignore.
By definition, it means that we all agree
that the child’s situation is real shitty.
After this track is passed, for some passing trend
of boredom, or booze or titilating picts.
As far as you know, the little boy dies.
But he lives, and it’s only the memory that died.
I’ll let you know what happens after you press “next”
The boy, done with work, walks down the street
Turns down an alley, towards this group to meet
This group, the boy hears, knows the cure
to famine, fire, all problems of earth
“It takes you higher”
“It makes it easier”
“You will know no hurt”
They told no lies, they spoke their hearts’ truths
But the boy’s heart stopped, overdosed on a truth.