So what’s the point of quiet charity if it won’t get you the gig?
They don’t forgive irregularities just because your heart is big
And why leave home with an atlas stone when a flask of pebbles might do?
This quite excessive sense of diligence
Offends my reasoned confidence in you
I do my best to view the world from deep behind these eyes
I draw my energy from sources not simply surmised
But what’s the point of simple clarity in such a complex universe?
Should we not strive towards more parity,
By ripping out the contents of your purse?
I steer my ship by ancient stars and hold the wind with poise
I grasp at every passing wave in a quest to find pure joys
So what’s the point of quiet charity if you don’t bag some esteem?
Complied reduction of this narrowly sliced time just seems obscene
And who would roam with an atlas stone…
When there are so many sights to see?
What’s the point of true contention,
When the scientific evidence has been decreed?
I beat my path with head held high and wisdom at my heels
I don’t pretend to know that this is how we all should feel
In a pinch and you’re on the run, will ye come undone?
If it’s a cinch just to follow the sun,
Why then fear of this unusual one?