Everything's connected-
The cell, the sun in the sky-
I don't know why we suck up everything and still we're born to die.


We seem to have benevolence of a saint,
But our intentions are quite plain:
We only think about ourselves, so this is how it will remain.

Yesterday I looked into my hands and wondered why
I only give what I excrete;
But to whom do I apologize?
And then I realized there's only one big world to fix, but
Scare the hell out of me.

If they made a bandage large enough,
It might conceal the pain
While our children's cancer from the sun is washed with acid rain.

We seem to have benevolence of a saint,
But our intentions are quite plain:
We only think about ourselves, so this is how it will remain.

We are not invincible-not indestructible.
We cannot appraise ourselves if everythings is so mundane.

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