We are paper people
But people need life
People need warmth to love
So the fire needs to burn
In this winter of existence
The fire must be fuelled
The fallen boughs of gods would be
But this world is of paper
And paper people do we be
But paper burns a fuel
And people need to live
And we are paper
And we are people
Yet to keep the people we must burn the paper
To keep humanity we must burn the lost
The people that do stray
The paper who are singular
They must feed the people
The paper who are spiritless
But perhaps those people who be paper be the most people of all
And perhaps those paper who be people are the most purposeless of all
Those people that be paper
Are the ones that are the free
For paper do spin with the wind
To a new paper world
Filled with not so paper people?
But we are paper people
Stuck
As we live to our paper huts downed with paper bolts
Instead of to live of our paper
As our paper
Like spaceships upped with the fathomless wind
Floating
But this pathetic cycle as piteous as it be.
Pertinent to our paper parts in this paper world, must end,
Continuous
Unquestioned
We throw the paper who be people into the water
Drowning
So we can make bridges
From one bank
To the other
But the other, though dreamed, is not the heaven that our writings need,
Just another station, for life to whoosh by
And curious, that we know paper be no good in water, so what are those that are lost?
Yet careful not to become a damn
or the water that keep flowing for the people who be paper
Will let us drown.
So we must let them slip away
Keep the bridge broken
For our faults may save us
With no ropes to pull paper in
But to hang
Bodies as bricks
To build a paper empire
For the bridges are but walls
Separating truth and prosperity
No matches of warmth for bricks
Passion and paper do not do not mix
Sparks are in the head only
But paper has no head, so the people must write them on,
or where did the paper come from,
so why do we kill our heratige, burn our shrivelled paper world
If we don't have these ideas
Because the paper people
Ignored, the hidden paper who be people cannot take the pain of this perilous world
So they write us while we sleep
Their silent sparks scald us in the night
With ideas to end this world so a new world, not so paper
could be
For those of paroxysm cannot control the pious
Pious who be paper dreaming of their pyre heaven
delusional.
So the hidden let souls bleed, bleed out their truths from their harsh paper cuts
Draning
Till they be just paper people
Blank paper people, whose little slices bleed people till they be paper too
Washed out paper people who let the cycle go on to the next
till some paper people be born paper people,
till some paper people forget what it be to be people
Lost paper people who fuel the fire for humanity
For people need warmth to live
So we must burn the paper
But don't you know my sweet child
That flesh burns brighter than paper
And passion created the flame
So we give those paper people that are not paper at all, to the fireplaces of purgatory without a care for their not so little pains
Bricks to futher from hell and higher the paper empire proximate to their pyre
The pretentious to their peridition
But high things hold physics too
And they must come crashing down
Like a meteorite, to petite to survive the burning of the atmosphere
A leaf in a tempest
But the paper who be people complain not, as they watch up
Their feet firmly on the ground
To powerless to have reached for the greed of the unreachable
And though it is their suffering, they now see down to the the ashes of their rulers
And forward they tread on them, proud.
So that the paper of people who are not paper at all can burn the paper people
The people who could stand tall
The people who could dance to truths
The people who could be mountains
The people who could write their souls on to the paper.
And imprint their thoughts to them
So that the people who be paper see that they were never paper at all.
