Paper.
Fold it, paint it,
call it green.
Stamp it, lick it,
collect it....
greed.

It's our money.
Controlling minds.
It's our "proof" of knowledge,
soaking time.

It's our budget,
line after line.
It's our lists,
our fits,
our "I'm doing fine!"

It's the mastermind
of calling the shots.
It's our propeller,
our "everything we've got."

Paper.
Paper.
I dip it in glue.
I fold it,
misuse it,
and recycle it new.

It doesn't hold me by strings.
it's not MY wedding ring.

I do many a things with paper.
But I know I'm its creator.

I need not proof to wave in the air.
I need not cliches to make 'em stare.

It's just paper,
dry pulp from a tree.
Does it really define
YOU from ME?