The fabric of conscious life
A brilliant design cut with a dull pair of scissors
A volatile and provocative image
Set against the serenity of unconsciousness.
I don't understand it
I don't believe anyone does
From where this field marshal stands
We are clowns in the dense jungle brush
Carefully juggling our self-esteem meters
Performing for the tall trees
Breaking a sweat to amuse plant life
Routines spring up like weeds
Insects come out in the summer
And the lions have it good
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