if i could leave this awful loaf of meat
i would become a thousand things
the leaves on trees and kids on swings
i would be the flowers the delivery man brings
empowered by the freedom newly found in me
i could be the sunset, i could be the breeze
i could be the palimpsest for all of earthly history
i would become the housewife fucking lividly
the woody panel for an artist painting vividly
the brushes and the solvents and the pigments could be me
i could be the air that dries, the easel onto which it leans
i could be the man that cries, his fortunes lost on lotteries
i could be a helpless child, born doomed to deaths disease
the wild underbrush of prairies that few men have seen
the udders of a dairy cow whos milk is turned to cheddar cheese
A conniseur whos palate can distinguish one trillion tastes
and i could be each one, if my soul would just make haste
and leave this awful loaf of meat we call the human race
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