Contemplating the root cause of thinking gone awry.
You, my friends, are animals.
Naked by design.
What makes you so sure you were
born to be divine?
No one hands you luxuries
when you're made from dirt.
Must be why I find you here
reaching for dessert.
Only pickings for the gods
dangle from this tree;
Sure to clear the eyes of mud,
though not perfectly.
You can still live tooth and nail
if you're so inclined.
Or live smartly just like me
well groomed and refined.
Just ignore the side-effects,
though they may be strong.
You will think you're doing right,
when you're doing wrong.