When in doubt of your life just look up or down

Point in the opposite way of which you wear your frown

Look up, the air has its smog

Look down, the plant has its weeds

At one point they lowly shall over come

In turn they shall replant their own seeds

Things have changed a lot since the Garden of Eden

No longer can creation suffice

No longer can man hold his head up, nor down

No longer can life he entice

Might he always looks where his next step will be taken

Unable to see the peripheral masterpiece that is

All that surrounds his white collared presence

All of which used to be his

And those who look in the opposite direction

Have experienced why he can only complain

In response to his lack of a realistic thought

They are to consider him lame

To draw him out would be unheard of

To help him see would be confrontation

To remove the blinders that forces him to sulk

Is now considered a violation

The artistry of the weed is no longer accepted

Now how is the weed to react?

The tucked in anger and indescribable pain builds up

And explodes through the cement with a crack

Spray all you want no poison can take

The mind of talented, gifted weed

Until people like you can work with people like them

Until you both can begin to agree

The infected plant life has taken their step

It is now the turn of the rose

For the freedom of their mind lies in your hands

For it is the life you have chose