Deficiency

I want to get scurvy

I don’t need bread to survive

I want to get apoplexy

I got nothing

I need nothing

I know people who would cry

Without a car for the day

People who would cry

If others won’t do

Exactly the things they are asked to do

People who cry

Don’t understand

The people who really cry

I have soup and soup is enough

If I don’t have soup

Dirt is enough

Don’t you comprehend?

Isn’t this simple?

It’s incredibly funny to see all the little people

Walking around and talking Jesus

And me being the only one who isn’t of Jesus

Didn’t even particularly like the idea of Jesus

And yet I’m the most like Jesus

These, the most like yuppies, love to look down on me

But then the world is full of hypocrites

And they all have plenty of bread

The world is full of laughing women

Who all, all surrounded by men

And I am content in this surety

I find in it my subtle calm

You can sound the alarm

You can call the police

You can tip back the wine

I’ll be ready