TheWeatherInHum - WiseAcre Lyrics

Reading from the works of the poorest
Not a hell of a lot else to do
Listening to sounds of the forest
Clear that I've been missing you
Living from a bag and a plastic straw
Like one who's lost his Sainthood in disgrace
Now among the least respected in this place
Over and above your station
Take the risk of saying something new
People won't appreciate that
I know because they never do
Like the magic beans you planted
Like the roots below
Under and below your place
You hesitate to grow
Like the words of imprisoned people who dared to change the game