The Earth is an orange,
waiting to be peeled.
Its juices sucked by ancient
Pagan Kings, The Earth will
revive for you, if you
will only let it.
Do not be wary of The Earth.
It can do wonders for you,
and you can do wonders with it,
where through the citrus groves
there is an ocean, sun-kissed and lingering
inside of each drop of juice.
Cherish The Earth.
There is no other.
Take this bread and count on it,
one two
three oranges in the garden
citrus and succulent.
The barflies will then shout from their stools
with glasses raised in hand:
“To The Earth,
To The Earth,
You’re basically my lover.”
And you can tell them they’re right.
“Believe in it,” says the Rascal King,
he’s behind the bar and pulling
the strings.
With dirt in your cuticles, revel
In The Earth, it is home.
Repeat it to yourself.
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