Paperback Philosopher

Hey Jude
Do they still follow you on?
Begging and pleading
For the secrets behind your birthright
Inflamed adapto addicts
Not yet ready to figure it out on their own
I am not so far removed from their sickness
Tell me how strange and heavenly isolation is Bukowski
Mr.Burroughs how did your garden grow?
With pretty maids struck down in a row
Was this tragedy your accidental muse
That's how you sold it in Mexico
The gift of gab sure does go a long way
Exemption and redemption being silver apples
Held high above hungry mouths
Baby's got to feed
Or is that too a massive fallacy?
Can we survive on orgasms and liquor and dope?
Wouldn't be the first time
You don't eat when you've lived too long
Only mime the motions of those who still believe
Replicating what no longer comes on as nature
Struggle to brush your teeth
Butter day old bread
This is surely a red flag for surrender's collection
Youth can be so selfish in their ideals
Never wanting to let go what was not theirs to begin
Growing up is sadness and rejection
That's why most of us never make it
We're just not built with the equipment
To handle complete core meltdown