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