IT

Things unknown crush down

And make us tiny stupid beings

Babbling in high-pitched squeeks

Fancy the great potential

And just as we organize

It

The great It

Sweeps down to remind us

We're nothing

Vulnerability in it's hands

Still the braver among us

(the fools among us)

Wave pin-head fists It-ward

And all it does is

Roar it's laughter

Till it starts tearing up

And bangs it's fists

On the heads of angry clouds

We are not so much company as playthings.





LaRock

05/02/92