Underground

this underground does not run deep;
what is this so called down below you hide in?
What is this dogly shit I smell?
It's all just lazy low fucks, clean cut robots,
yapping wolf pups, I can tell.

I can tell it's just those with the melting ice,
it's either sewer rats or spies,
who chose to pay homage to slits,
who play with riddles made of tears and lies,
to about behind and under your lives.

and obviously there's more to it,
it's a whole system,
full of sticks and rocks and Tits.

Hide behind those symbols,
since you know who to fear,
and play your games of white striped thighs,
of black disguise and brown demise,
or listen if you have ears,
or see if you have eyes.

Bleed and sweat and cry, if you see the need for it,
feel the need to try, if you love the thrill of it,
but you don't have to, it can be beautiful and kind, but it doesn't have to,
it can be Death and power and might, but it doesn't need to.
and yes and honestly there's even something true to find,
You can be greedy or lovely, ahead or behind,
you can leap as far as you like.

In the end it's just not deep.