The ceiling is firm cement through iron frames
I try to make my hole with a crobar it´s a slow game
I attract smiles with my attempts my patience yet affords a blessing
My breathing becomes heavy as their laughter sets in
Ears for the truth and not the distraction police supplying cotton and sand
Ears for what´s good for the life plan! Bit of sky, god and pan
Bit of flying, praying, cooking from the sands of the South back to this pollution, sigh
Crime sneezes on nice dresses and side walks, it coughs stronger than zigzagging blue lines
My heavy breathing is not a plea for mercy
Or a cry that i should be worthy
It´s the motor inside that is going to drive into the cement, iron ceiling
Through the roof to taste the sky, eat clouds, oblige decent dealings
The barred upholstered doors may not open
Smiles may widen as i knock without making any noise
Laughing may persist as I push against the locked doors in front of peers
By god I did my part, even if all I recieve is oxygen for my lungs and laughter for my ears
better get that gown on it´s just about time to judge me
Better throw on that wig too so I can return the laughter freely
Our jokes are receipts, timesheets and revenue if you haven´t noticed
Meditate on cost cutting, host the meeting in the position of the lotus
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