written day 1 edge patagonia
Been among too many people Exhausted and lost the plot And so I retreat to the only place I know Where people are not To the place that I long Surrounded not by their beliefs but by the rustle of leaves and the height of birdsong Among the self described meat-eating pacifists looking for simple answers, which is the domain of teenagers and fascists Making no difference between what is true and strong Lecturing the serpent on what is right and what is wrong Are they it, where I belong? Maybe But perhaps it is in the rustle of leaves and the height of birdsong Among the most unconciousness conciousness-ers Desperately explaining vibes past each other Very cool how you explain the woo, but tell me again, what exactly do you do? Lecturing the cosmos on what is right and what is wrong Are they it, where I belong? Maybe But perhaps it is in the rustle of leaves and the height of birdsong Among the well-adjusted couples Talking about travel vacations and dating between social contracts I do not understand Lecturing the basics on what is right and what is wrong Are they it, where I belong? Maybe But perhaps it is in the rustle of leaves and the height of birdsong Among the jaded idlers in the garden of knowledge graudating to become emotionally distant geniuses absentmindedly destroying the world Lecturing the infinite on what is right and what is wrong Are they it, where I belong? Maybe But perhaps it is in the rustle of leaves and the height of birdsong Among so many beautiful people with beautiful minds For the glory of Heaven meets Earth on the tips of our tongue And even so, that is not where I belong Rather, in the rustle of leaves and in the height of birdsong