The Rocks

September 13, 2011
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A piece of walking stone
Which was born in the oldest home
Sits around and talks all day
And thinks about when he was clay
Molded into what he is today
Before he froze from his head to his toes
And became that graying age-old stone
Surrounded by all death and bones
No rainy day or blizzard snow
Can melt him back from stone to clay
But you'll always hear him talk and say
How well he formed back in the day

And when he's talking to the rocks
They always sit, laugh and relate
About the days when they were clay
And time moved on at a slower rate
Now to them things come and go
Without even saying good bye or hello
So now the rocks just talk all day
And think about when they were clay
Molded into what they are today
Molded by the corrosion and rain
Unlike it was back in the day

If ever you were to talk to the rocks
In your pj's and washer-fresh socks
They'd sit you down and they'd say this
Through soft cough, wheeze, and hiss:
"We've seen the world from the beginning,
We've everything that's ever been living
We've seen the roots and trees and ground,
We've seen the stars fall all around
We've seen the water rise high above us,
We've seen the trees aflame before us
We've seen Jesus Christ and we've seen Kennedy,
We've seen old Lincoln, and we know already
That no matter how hard we really try,
The rocks will never be realized
By anyone who's passing by,
Not a single person's even tried."





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