How many lives does it take
To ruin a single one?
I once learned of a boy
He couldn’t sing at all
Yet he knew every note of my song
Found one day they called him
‘The Wild Boy’ he’s a mess, he’s a man
What should we do with him?
He saw a tree, called it
Mom, and she called him, son
Peter, what makes you sad?
And how in the world did you
Let it get this bad?
I knew a person who read up
On the likes of him
He had no soul, he was young
He was fitting in peter ate plants
Grew a beard and lived with kings
But, he couldn’t understand a thing
Peter, what makes you sad?
And how in the world did you
Let it get this bad?
Peter, how do you know?
Your eyebrows are the mountains
And your dandruff is the snow
The year that he died
The United States dollar was born and now
When I pay for my lunch I feel tree bark skin
He’s in my purse, in my ears
He makes thoughts begin
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