Wise men are dying
and developing bubbles on their stomachs.
Fools bleed
and laugh a confident cry.
Birds sleep while flowers grow
and a walk through intimidation
tells all a tale of ego.
Chuggin’ through a day
finding ourselves in idle again, the next.
Open a window, but never one off the street,
I wanna sleep.
(originally written summer of 1994 ?)