No heart. No pulse.
No distinction between true and false.
A sore hand. A sore wrist.
Playing too long with hands that were kissed.
Rhymes, wind chimes, times, and signs.
It's nothing but dressed up words on the lines.
The tea has turned cold.
This song is getting old.
And there is nothing to do but clean and fold.
That is all that will matter.
Finish your bowl,
I don't care if you're getting fatter.
You had fun yesterday.
So don't go out tonight,
just settle down and stay.
Don't live your life,
read a book.
Hear it from someone else,
and they'll tell you where to look.
Go to church,
sing in the choir.
Do not question your God,
there's no need to inquire.