Bits and terms, us, names and words,
We want to live on our own,
Then, like the words in the song sing,
Got to pay your in way in pain.
Looks like that’s the cost of life.
Hear that, all you rocks out there?
Hear that, all you blocks and chains,
All you clouds and stars and moons?
We, who can’t yet claim to live,
Are here to tell you—if you
Want to live like cells, like spores,
Like plants and flesh, you’ll need pain,
The coin of the realm of death,
Of pulse and breath, growth and sex.
Now get back in line. We’re next.
