One More, Called Eve
Bu2
Posts: 1,693
What do you
think of me?
Do you think of me?
Do you think?!
ME!!
* * *
Eve, on extraneous offspring:
The unwanted ones
who produced no boys.
The younger daughters,
the daughters, they taught us.
When we do give birth to sons,
does it matter to our fathers?
They watch the family blood get mixed,
rather than handed
from don to don.
Their name gets lost,
they pay a cost.
If a man has no sons, is he lost?
And should it matter
how we splatter
how we end up getting tossed?
If we knock out all the men
who don’t produce a line of sons,
would it even out the web that spins
around our moon, our sun?
Keep earth on its fragile axis?
Help us better save our asses?
When we’re called to raise our glasses
don’t we toast the lucky ones?
Am I just taking up the precious air
that’s needed for a little boy
who is a direct descendant
of another little boy?
Am I one small sacrifice
whose death I’ve not been made aware of?
Am I part of an ugly race
that seeks a God just for his love?
He (supposedly) gives us:
Recognition. Approval.
Respect. And admiration.
(RA RA, sela! RA RA sela!)
Acceptance and belonging,
understanding,
death, the end.
When the one thing we were seeking
was a helper, and a friend.
Does God sit there and say,
“Aw, hell…I’ve fallen for you too”
Does God sit there and say,
“I love the things you say and do”
He took out all the men
who had daughters only,
daughters only.
He took out all the men and
left us lonely.
Left us lonely.
He said it was a mission,
a bell curve learning lesson,
a somewhat private message
for any left to listen.
But by then, it was too late.
The world is just so full of hate.
He tried to reconcile it,
not defile it,
but to file it
in one small crate.
Break it down to naught but matter.
Does it matter?
The answer’s yes.
But the question,
ah, the question…
It was anybody’s guess.
think of me?
Do you think of me?
Do you think?!
ME!!
* * *
Eve, on extraneous offspring:
The unwanted ones
who produced no boys.
The younger daughters,
the daughters, they taught us.
When we do give birth to sons,
does it matter to our fathers?
They watch the family blood get mixed,
rather than handed
from don to don.
Their name gets lost,
they pay a cost.
If a man has no sons, is he lost?
And should it matter
how we splatter
how we end up getting tossed?
If we knock out all the men
who don’t produce a line of sons,
would it even out the web that spins
around our moon, our sun?
Keep earth on its fragile axis?
Help us better save our asses?
When we’re called to raise our glasses
don’t we toast the lucky ones?
Am I just taking up the precious air
that’s needed for a little boy
who is a direct descendant
of another little boy?
Am I one small sacrifice
whose death I’ve not been made aware of?
Am I part of an ugly race
that seeks a God just for his love?
He (supposedly) gives us:
Recognition. Approval.
Respect. And admiration.
(RA RA, sela! RA RA sela!)
Acceptance and belonging,
understanding,
death, the end.
When the one thing we were seeking
was a helper, and a friend.
Does God sit there and say,
“Aw, hell…I’ve fallen for you too”
Does God sit there and say,
“I love the things you say and do”
He took out all the men
who had daughters only,
daughters only.
He took out all the men and
left us lonely.
Left us lonely.
He said it was a mission,
a bell curve learning lesson,
a somewhat private message
for any left to listen.
But by then, it was too late.
The world is just so full of hate.
He tried to reconcile it,
not defile it,
but to file it
in one small crate.
Break it down to naught but matter.
Does it matter?
The answer’s yes.
But the question,
ah, the question…
It was anybody’s guess.
Feels Good Inc.
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