shopping
All the longing that’s sought
only to grasp what is bought
Waste is ready for the flock
all that fog, won’t go
All the wantings, every note
Just to hold what could be bought
Bundled as one, trivial stock,
through the fog, no more
All the longing that’s sought
only to grasp what is bought
Waste is ready for the floor
all that fog, won’t go
All the wantings, every door
Just to hold what should be thrown
Bundled as one, trivial stock,
through the fog, won’t go