Bucolic Gone

Story of the world that is true, story of the world that is untrue

Shining in the depth of the sky, comforting the mind with a lie

Digging up a chunk of the truth, capturing a piece of your youth

Indecision glides like a bike, steady decline

Bucolic gone, patently wrong

Stories untrue

Emotional we fly too high

And then we fall

Bucolic gone, inactivity

Patently wrong, inactivity

Picture of the world that is real, picture of the world that is unreal

Burning up the land with match, firecracker, don’t take a chance

Tying up the dream in a knot, rolling up the sleeve when it’s hot

Trying not to fall off a cliff and disappearing into the wind

Where is fulfillment center? There is no way to enter

We float around in circles, life on a stack of turtles

I like turtles