what brings me here upon this place?
it seems like Sundays always brush me away
seems like my wife does to tease
when she pulls out the broom again
I know she doesn't do it so unknowingly
yet intentions are the best that can be
and she insists so that I learn
I complain, but know what I deserve
and here I cling on
to its furry blades
it could've been a piercing mistake
so I'm back down at the roots again
but not so far down
where the wolves are howling up
they hope for this falling moon
to be spread upon their plates
it feels like gravity's my own bait
but I'm still not their supper now...
'cause I caught a strawberry's tongue
it says to pay attention and it'll save my life
hope it's enough to buy me the time
it takes for the famished to turn away
but what if my pendulous flesh has caught their eyes?
or if the strawberry told everyone the same lie?
then, since my instincts aren't what's on my mind
surely man will lose to nature once again...