The tint, the sweaters, and the jackets
Would sometimes stop the racket
That is defined
By true lies.
This house is of concrete,
Its windows abstract...
How ugly.
Even this heard, by resolving words,
Just builds a foundation
Deeper into sand.
I'd write a message on this tablet
That would be forgotten in an instant,
The tongue has been disarmed
And I'm as helpless as an infant.
I can sulk because I can
And you can wander in the woods,
But this shepherd is no man
And he does nothing that he could
To save himself.
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