From each position, perfection doesn´t exist that´s true.
Arguing with you, debating and questioning what´s the point of persisting.
Gather the answers in a steel woven basket. Or sew it into some of the knowledge caught in the carpet. The carpet you stand on when you´re on doubtful ground.
Some fruit to eat when your body longs for certainty. Nice and shallow superficial in a world perverse, teach me to underestimate the universe.
Tell me it´s not worth it to fix the broken machine, it´s not my job not my place, besides i know not how to fix it. The cities bribes, drugs and whores waiting to turn tricks.
Looking up at me looking down on me. Looking for space between the shade of needs.
Locate me in the garden of ignorance. Wake me into you lack of interest in the world. Explain to me how it all works! Where that damned illusive truth lurks.
You couldn´t be further from it.
Beauty and the beholder the poetic rite they own. Reminds me of the day I saw a piece of that naked truth.
I saw it while it took off it´s illusions, that piece of flesh untouched that many would treat with abuse.
I caught it seconds before it disappeared into the water. An inch of skin I bore witness to finer than my hottest fantasy coming real and standing nude.
That inch of the truth I can´t convey to you. Each time I try it comes out a lie, I lack the charisma and the proof. I couldn´t get closer foot wheel or hoof, I couldn´t be further from that magnificent truth!
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