We both know what it is
And we try instead to think it out
How it came to be about
Asking pointless how's
and where's
and when's
and why's
And Myers-Briggs
And starry skies
And profound words when someone dies
And seeing soul-like substance in one's eyes
I know how to call a spade, a spade
But I can see a spade
For more than why it was made
And with the cards it was dealt-
I get the ones that it played
We're both excusing the knife-
When we're cut from the blade
This endless cycle
denies all our pleasures
Surmounts all the guilt
Glinting off hoardes of treasures
Behaviors that show some predilection
Alleles and genes that favor some manic addiction
Are just tools of the trade-
Systems of our perdition
Refusing to fade
I will break this tradition