(There we were
all the hes and shes
all the thems and usses
all the mes and wes)
Melting slowly into the crowd
where we could barely breathe
in the population's overflowing
stagnancy of lifeless debris
How do you hide your ears from
hearing the throngs of life's songs jumping
from the plumped up lips of vanity's
answer to your own heart's calling?
Can you hinder your insight from seeing
or your heart from once believing
in the touch that left you bleeding
when it cut you with its blunt assault?
Where is the land of plenty, the one
we spoke of in the night, where our
will ran deep and our hunger fed us
with her longing to be wonderful?
How do we drown in the emptiness
sinking into the depth of plenty
when we were made to walk on water
and turn water into wine?
Where is the hunger?
Where is the need?
When is the fire coming
that will ravage this debris?
Where's the hunger?
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