Armed - Shawn Phillips

Armed with the thought of being God

I respectfully decline

There wasn’t really very much money

And the work was awful hard

But we’ll get by

By the skin of our teeth

If we look at my denial

Well now here we go

We’re still on bloody trial

Filled with the scent of lilac gold

And wandering bazaars

Brought with love and simple chores

From hoping lands afar

Sent with characteristic joy

A value that is lost, embossed

While we sit here

They are still

Alive and teeming, millions

Struggling for the right to life

In desert homes of drifting sand

Or darkly gleaming light

Out in space

No mouths to feed

Just searching questing minds

They find

While they’re finding

They are coldly kind