This one man a dub



Heed whom call themselve a-priori
This not care if one in a billion people
As we return to crafts, folk and land
On the white world ruin
They Stumble
They a yelling me, myself and in my shoes
Yet no one there not even a them
Where we turn, we turn for purpose, for compassion
A lost plea, a lost lot at a loss to how this be, when they mememe,
When we do not even try but be,
they getting angry
For real,
We as us run what we please, such is beyond one with no connect
For a touch to earthen mud can bring out a bowl
For a dance, when we dance, can dance the soul
For a song to sing, can compass on land
To take a little and give a little to live, need no flag, no nation, no border