The shape of the world

The shape of the world got away from me
A little piece of pessimism made it's way into my hand
but tomorrow I drop it like gravity wants me to
Oh great bulge cold at both ends what do we make of you

Great world that harbors us
We the hardness and the softness temporary evidence
We the emptiness and the fullness, the concurrence and the dissidence
We the seaweed on reef of political tides

Ignoring the very rock our roots cling to
The shape of the world got away from thee
If form could translate into words the earth would be a complex language
Satellites send us all we need and somehow we communicate pushing that metal out

Great mass that found it's fortunate position in the system
Look at us
We the good for nothing assumers continuing to baby boom
worship brands and consume

We whose personal version of stupid rings more pleasantly
with sweet bias sauce evidently
When the shape of the world humbles us
It's no longer about the bigger, better, faster illusory rush