Settling to the Bottom
from 
JoeUser Forums
JoeUser Forums
Innocence guaged on a lack of appropriate comaprison,
Therein lies the problem,
Sifted through the murky waters to the bottom.
We're panning for gold in the aqueduct,
Staking claim to the tragedy of the commons,
The tragedy,
Drowning us at the bottom.
We respect little for that which we don't have receipts for,
Documenting rebellions we've retreated from,
Leaving an overstock of cowardice in each of us.
We've clearly seen and breathed better days,
Though we have invented lesser than better ways,
Of Approaching that being approachable,
Sifting through the aqueduct,
Or at least gold that is potable,
Inventing the lesser half,
Who've been buried in this dark whole.
By any scientific measure,
We've only gotten closer to inventing new treasures unattainable,
All down the drain although,
The sediment is far from plugged up,
Allowing us to shovel our trash into these veins and offer little more than a shrug.
For the conscience we put to sleep early tonight,
Unlikely to wake in the morning light.
Sinking deep among small ideas and even simpler hopes,
Far too tired to swim or float.
Ignoring any possibility,
Of hidden agendas and those who might plot them,
We all are staring up at the surface,
Waiting patiently at the bottom.
Therein lies the problem,
Sifted through the murky waters to the bottom.
We're panning for gold in the aqueduct,
Staking claim to the tragedy of the commons,
The tragedy,
Drowning us at the bottom.
We respect little for that which we don't have receipts for,
Documenting rebellions we've retreated from,
Leaving an overstock of cowardice in each of us.
We've clearly seen and breathed better days,
Though we have invented lesser than better ways,
Of Approaching that being approachable,
Sifting through the aqueduct,
Or at least gold that is potable,
Inventing the lesser half,
Who've been buried in this dark whole.
By any scientific measure,
We've only gotten closer to inventing new treasures unattainable,
All down the drain although,
The sediment is far from plugged up,
Allowing us to shovel our trash into these veins and offer little more than a shrug.
For the conscience we put to sleep early tonight,
Unlikely to wake in the morning light.
Sinking deep among small ideas and even simpler hopes,
Far too tired to swim or float.
Ignoring any possibility,
Of hidden agendas and those who might plot them,
We all are staring up at the surface,
Waiting patiently at the bottom.
