FEEDING OUR DEMONS
I may not believe in things you believe Should that be the yardstick on which we live? I may lust after waters in a bowl But you prefer yours in a slim bottle The choices we make must be our choosing We make our beds, but others make our graves A man is entitled to what he craves I may be straight where you have dents and flaws That will never mend my own broken wing Who's decision is what is right and wrong? Defiance to biology and norms We are eaten by evolution's worms Should this be considered another phase? Man lusting man, Bree yearns to feel Pam's curves Singing same song, just in different words What if we all pleasure in our make up? Man would've found a lid for his big cup If the maker made us with chance to choose That same chance to choose we must never lose The future shouldn't be fed to swine of wimps