Shitopia

In the end it's a pile of shit. So what? Put a flag on it and call it shitopia, land of the truly expired - and if somebody asks what shitopians do all day just say: "we got a lot of shit going on." They'll shit bricks and that's the end of it. "Off with their heads!" No edges allowed in shitopia, everything has got to be smooth. Soft. Warm. Squareheads can't wrap their mind around that. But like any paradisic society there's some parasitic activity happening in the dark alleys. They call them Squarepushers, a true danger to our kids. If the shit they're selling was at least good, but no, without the proper tools there can never be real edges. The shit they sell as squares is really just the dirt they pick up on the streets and scrape out from underneath their fingernails. Parents shouting, children crying, and you decide to turn your back on that crappy place. Off you go, step by step with a steady pace into a valley full of grace. Tears in your eyes stand witness to the lost dream, yet you are happy to return. Ashes to ashes, and dust to dust.