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Muse Ramble Ruse Mamble
I listen to songs and think of their romantic clarity
The pursuit that they speak of seems so specific and spoken
They know their many options and muse on their struggle
But seem so confident that something, good or bad, will happen
If left not to muse, how does one grow?
Our thoughts can aid us, or stall us, or fool us into suicide
Are we born with a breed of romance within us?
Humane as we are, humanity is animal
Within nature, with instincts
And we pretend to be so sublime as walk on two legs
We kill with our machinery
Because we've done away with claws
We forage with our politics
Because our lands are all divided
We mate with our stupidity
Because we feign sophistication
We exist through our symmetry
Because we demand order
We are animals in cages, of our own free will
Split down the middle, screaming to be liberated
All the while settling our dues to a face never seen by anyone
But through the flaws in our foundation that we never tend to
We've found, maybe created, love
And love seems to be the last thing in this world,
that's really worth living for.
