The Beatles Were Wrong!

Compassion is the warm gun.
The sorrow on a sufferer's face
Opens me up and ends the chase
For security in a certain frame of mind,
But before it's really begun.
There is no frame of mind, we are all one in the same!
The pain, the love, the indescribable awe...
All at one time,
It's all I saw.
And from the touch from a hand,
The rough skin tears my heart apart,
Making the pieces sink into my chest like quicksand,
Caving into itself.

I see the world from where I stand
On the inside looking out.
I sit, I breathe, and I finally understand
That from the pain of lonliness grows the seed of love.
Coming as the clearest perception of reality.
Like looking at the world from up above.
Seeing this purely in all actuality.
It's naturally the ego's fatality.
More now than ever,
The fruit is in demand,
From the seed of love comes a fruit called Peace
That's what this place needs
We are the birds and the bees,
Spread the seeds througout the land!
But we're not.
We are not planting trees...
We are not even growing roots.
We can't get the seed beneath the surface,
So we will never eat its fruit.

- "The Fruit of Pain"