loopy side notes

I wonder why women shave their legs
and why the monks must shave their heads.
It makes me feel I've got some trimming to do
but in the end i don't want to be you.
It makes me sad how much some care
for everything that's not really there.
And the things that are that none can see
like god and night and the air you breathe,
we fill them with polluted bread
you constantly bake in your polluted head.
When a man says kill, and we say you must
it's not a punishment, it's what we lust.
When the stars shine bright and we fade them away
you forget there's no difference between night and day.

(If there were dreams we could share
I'd invite you to play ball with the tots who run the world.
Powell's got the catch and he's doing a victory dance across the endzone.)