Through their Gifted Fingers

[Psychedelics_r_best]

Through their fingers they lived,
Picking out their favorite light,
Observed the semblance of stars,
And found not more than what drove their cars,
Through their gifted fingers they wrought the sounds of langauge,
And found not more to speak about than what differences they had,
What colored clothes to ponder and the tastes they so desired,
They found not more to do than convene about the way they were attired,
Besides their rather peculiar ways and conveniant times of day,
When they ate and learned and drank and killed,
Occasionally or more often than not so echoing their misunderstanding,
In their vain attempts at communication,
And help in their pitiful relation between their eyes and the air,
And so through their gifted fingers,
They wrought bombs and gears and television,
To watch while they ate their dinners,
The many fights amongst themselves
And what they used to fill their shelves,
The ways they manipulated their understanding of the world,
So that they may devise new ways to kill each other,
The proper etiquette to war and why is must be done,
Among the other essentials as the setting sun,
And why their world turned and around what it so encircled,
And how they should spend their time,
And who would no longer be hear to count off the clock,
They all sat and absorbed from these moving pictures,
The strange animals did,
They would tell each other what to do,
And get mad about it too,
Feel certain ways and so perform different actions based on what they liked and what they didn't,
And oh so many things that there were,
Different food and each other,
They congregated and moved and spoke,
How it was where they lived and sounds and different things to see,
Touch and how things feeled,
And so they did these various things and differentiated,
And ask why they must and so they pondered,
And could not agree on much on which they pondered,
For they pondered quite insignificant things after all,
And so they fought some more,
And watched it all on television,
And lived in their hives,
Dieing and adding constantly more lives,
So they could do it all over again,
So they could spin themselves in circles,
Eating food and seeking pleasure,
Waging war and getting thinner,
Watching each other and disapproving,
Singing in their shallow vain voices to each other,
As such as they did through their gifted fingers.

 

[(Wordy)]

De-familiarising is fun. Love these opening lines:

Through their fingers they lived,
Picking out their favorite light,
Observed the semblance of stars,
And found not more than what drove their cars,