I’ve got little bubbles in me,
They’re pockets of technicolor energy
It’s effervescence bouncing constant, tension free
Contributes to my glowing frequency.
Effort, lessons of a germ turning I into we.
Equal balance giving extra for free.
Rehearsed colors painting air with glee.
Reverse colonists feeding back to the tree.
The worst clicking heels backward to flee
The first mimic heals to the bequeathed
A terse lyric feels the dangers of screens
The gurgling murk is a manger obscene
Filled up with emotional cocktails’ canteen
Of anger and spite where confliction careens,
So we never ask why, or “what does it mean”?
And thus dash our hopes down of returning to clean.
What an arduous task to escape from this trance,
When the key is locked up in a bright buddy’s glance.
When our pilot light’s dark,
And our flint will alone cannot kindle our spark,
To give love to another is to make your mark,
And resume your life with the frequency in your heart.