Culture

I’m not your porter

Baggage and more

Don’t try to lay that on me

Don’t saddle me with your heaviness

You are carrying rocks in your bag

What makes you think I want to carry that on my back?

A dozen and one lies in a pocket

And a Roman Coliseum

Where you pit everyone for your blood sport

Someone will turn the ring inside out

Your bags are falling apart

And I cannot bandage them up

I am not here to prop you up

I am not here to be your porter

Carry your own rotted plants

Pull your own rock-saddled wheels

When you can be one with the truth

I will, in tien, be your rock

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