Wandering in the chaos the battle has left,
We climb up the mountain of human flesh,
To a plateau of green grass,
and green trees full of life.
A young figure sits still by a pool,
He's been stamped "Human Bacon" by some butchery tool.(He is you)
Social Security took care of this lad.
We watch in reverence,
as Narcissus is turned to a flower.
A flower?
