Go
Away from the radiator where the nest of ants reside
Go
To the place where a god in the sky materializes into beaten tragedies
Go
To a land where the sun creates perfection to mask the identity you've created
Go
To the waving flag marked for sympathy, burning the insult-bathed woods to pulp
Stay
In a world where reality is the buzz projected on a television show
Stay
In the place where your reality was born to burning oils and coals
Stay
Swinging around the circle of time, jumping in and out of the switches of past and present
Stay
In the area where you have been forced to claw at the face of God
Or, perhaps, simply live in the present
