The World And Its Cup

I have the world and its cup
I have my life all shaken up,
But trouble is the rubble that
Falls beneath me, that sits
Beneath me—now I wait for
You, I wait for the idols to
Fall, for idle to stall, for the
Oil to arrive, for the pistons
To survive, for the speed to
Pick up, I am the worship,
Of the grass, of the past,
Of that which will not last—
Of a temporary road to scary-
Living on my own, having no
Home, paint on my face to
One day be disgraced,
Only one is Worthy, worthy
Of me, worthy of not just
A soccer ball but my all
And my all—let me not
Worship what the earth
Worship’s—for they know
What they do, and neither
Do I

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