Creekside, past the pride,
it's the choices called taste
that crash the common thread.
You talk about your ethics
You lash out on aestetics,
You merge it with hypocricy,
then you label it poetry!
Creekside, insider
its the chances you take
are unmade on your bed
Creekside, religious liars,
it's what you make of the facts
that will haunt you inside.
You talk about poetics,
You point out all the heretics,
you clothe yourself in priority,
in a puddle of -mediocrity.
Creekside-down by the riverside,
Creekside-the riverside, when you look at
the reflection what do you see? An obedient child or Mr. Pharisee?
Written by Richard Beattie
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