A Gaze Through My Reality-scope

Playing Dumb

The truth in front of us,

We act like we're on the short bus,

Playing dumb,

Solving problems with rum,

Or drugs to become numb,

Some use the food they nom,

Nom nom num,

Uh uh um,

It's sad because,

The response would be different if it was what it isn't and never was,

If it was a rap about big booties,

Showing lots of nudies,

Or just porn,

Maybe even pictures of tiny corn,

Why do we run,

Is it that fun?

Never really getting anything done?

Making millions of unrelated questions,

When you only were asked one?

Our eyes are like our feet,

Though are eyes are a little more neat,

Both never know where they going til they're there,

And then they're there with their,

Different ways of experiencing the place,

Yet both are immersed in the space,

Your eyes travel all around,

Feet experiencing the ground,

And we hide both of them from stuff,

Our feet from nature and our eyes from truth's cuffs,

It's hard to say,

Why it's this way,

Running from the same problems from yesterday,

Creating more today,

And still uninterested in truth,

Makes no sense like a closed toll booth.