Kids attempt to ascend through compost but inevitably sink.
lyrics
Here it stands, the sorry repertoire.
These puny hands have sure been working hard for you.
I carved my name on stripped pieces of bark
And sent them off down stream into the dark
Of the belly of the beast I was born by.
Food for the feast of her ghostly choir.
This is the game us selfish creatures play,
Throwing boomerangs and hoping they will relay.
Because there ain't nothing worse than the silent pain
Of never being read by the rest of the gang.
So I will scribble these senseless lines down
And pray for brains that are strange enough to figure them out.
Tie me to this weightless world.
If you can hear me I hope you understand.
I only wanted what we all want,
And I only ate what I was fed.
Here it stands, the sorry repertoire.
These puny plans haven't made it very far beyond my feet.
So I will sit here beneath the restless trees
And let the beast eat whatever it may eat.
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