Caveman

Caveman likes to swim
He likes to feel the weight of his limbs.
Floating upon the surface
Subjects the body to “buoyancy” –
What’s the point in even moving
If you’re never free?
You’re never free.

Caveman's got a broken body,
But he says he loves his brain –
Tells the token it’s innerving
The way in which people think
Boy, the bourgeoisie is truly something –
Is it me?

It is me.

So I’ll sink it in my pocket
And accept the fate that was given -
And the time alone that has been needed,
and how they form thoughts in our heads.
And experience, is it truly such a factor
When the anvil falls on our chests?
And the tides of time are surely broken
How will one know to feel bereft or regret?

Thank the lord I died awhile back and was born to understand
That one cannot be right for the sake of mankind
For the truth is impossible to get!
So take it all from me, those of you who seem to be listening:
I can't offer you much but I will send you my love, the only thing
I have to give.

He's bleeding out in the basement
But it doesn’t seem so strange.
Yet the others, they just keep watching –
Not even meaning to offer a hand.
Saying, “That’s what you get for believing in your own head.”