I cannot hear the old earth breathe Through the loose leaves I can only hear machines Sustain the city And the motion of my body's aligned with the way they are designed Stiff and instructed The rain is blistering on the glasses And slowly pushing Towards cherry blossoms clinging where The wipers cannot reach them I'm safe inside the walls of my skin, they won't let the waater in Every time the wearth's reimbursed I remember who I am Fragile and fortunate I cannot remember when I started to believe in Imaginary ties between Comfort and contentment A dog will eat all it's fed And hunt a stick time and time again Is the coyote less content On a cold night, sleeping with no bed Did our insticts lose mystery When we assigned them vocabulary It's tragic We are small things, what are we if we're not that?