Riding shuttle bareback, intergalactic road
Indulging in experience beats accepted mould
Shedding layers of skin, layers of clothing sold
Emitting false perceptions that the government uphold.

Directions to be proved, no minute, hour, no day
Transcending civil atmosphere, ask what if god were gay?
Plot our own philosophy, maps are their authors way
Worship our first memories and the way we used to play

Boundaries break with promises on a future we can’t see
Your byelaws, schedules and policies, unintelligible to me
Senses purified, I meditate where they used to be
And find a science without particles, a vague astronomy
Sitting naked with no past, is this land of the free.

04/07/2003

Posted on 04/07/2003
Copyright © 2025 Phil P Robson