Sacred Geometry

Although the masters make the rules

For the wise men and the fools

I got nothing, Ma, to live up to.

 

For them that must obey authority

That they do not respect in any degree

Who despise their jobs, their destinies

Speak jealously of them that are free

Cultivate their flowers to be

Nothing more than something

They invest in.

 

While some on principles baptized

To strict party platform ties

Social clubs in drag disguise

Outsiders they can freely criticize

Tell nothing except who to idolize

And then say God bless him.

 

While one who sings with his tongue on fire

Gargles in the rat race choir

Bent out of shape from society's pliers

Cares not to come up any higher

But rather get you down in the hole

That he's in.

 

But I mean no harm nor put fault

On anyone that lives in a vault

But it's alright, Ma, if I can't please him.

 

B. Dylan

Done