Money - a distraction.

Money - a distraction,

a foolish attraction.

Makes you chase the action,

Everything becomes a reaction.

But a mission, a passion, a purpose,

takes you out of the circus.

Suddenly energy comes in surplus,

and the work exists to serve us.

And what you can't see is the smell.

Twisted. Mangled. Funky as hell.

Panic - A taste the spirit knows well.

Exposed, a turtle without a shell.

Reality - a perception of the masses.

Blurry, distorted, moving like molasses.

Full of struggle, and dissent, among the classes.

Framed as a simple test, yet no one passes.

Still we hang over the cliff's edge,

Time - a sliver. A moment. A wedge.

Fully committed, with no hedge.

So we push. we climb. We sledge.