Knocking on a Hollow Head

I have a collective mold that has been festering
And so do you, but that’s not my doing
One who is faced with it, must deal with it
But it lingers like polluted air, a mischievous invisibility

Mirrors conquer the fears others have of you
Still, you fear yourself, like rain dropping on the vast ocean
And what to do with this parasite, the systematic injuries
Show it respect yet send it packing, Destination: Next Door.

A pencil and rusty farm tools, maybe.
But far better to run with weights
For when they are shed you will feel light as air
Then slowly, your ego will disappear

The only folks who can really laugh are those in your head
Lacking the track that was once bookmarked
I saved it for a while, for a materialistic savor
Oh how I chuckle, long johns, long hair

I’m not going anywhere, yet it seems…
Yes here is traveling faster than over there
Not lucky, and certainly not proper
I shed my clothes, live naked, and watch for onlookers

The truth, what of it, a fraction of reality
What books tell repeats what they sell, and that was once a tree
So who to believe but those with a contagious disorder
Yes my friend, an unmindful dis-order