MY PRECIOUS By Tom Jensen
Two morning doves rest upon a limb
Begin the day with a praising hymn
To the gods of grass and rain and wind
For it’s what they know what they're surrounded in
Contrast that to me who prays for fame
Golden statues and plaques bearing my name
Sure it might seem to some a little vain
But it’s what I know what I'm surrounded in
Every sight I am seeing
Every thought I am thinking
Every sentence I am speaking
Everything I've been believing
The roots are imperial
Facts often mytherial
Logic hypocritical
True intentions deceiving
With all of our wealth
we haven't had much success
Still got people sleepin'
On mattresses made of pavement
Their pillows are our steps
Why is gold so precious?
What makes silver so fine?
Who first chose to call this wealth?
Back in history and time
I wish that I could have told them
Being rich was all for show
Then I would have shown them
There was a better way to go
We could have changed
Our chain-of-being
Into something
Non - material
Then we could live our lives
For something meaningful
We could've reach new highs
I'm talking spiritual