Of the NEW fu lai,
cocoa butter
and roast pork buns.

To or from the mines,
don’t really matter
Its that ole 400 year bullshit
We never escaped.

Of course we did not lose it,
We ran to it.
We embraced it.
We continue to reach for it,
Whatever it is.

From the jungle’s green
To the green trap,
We have forgotten the blessedness of paradise,
and now grasp desperately
the threads of emptiness
and doubt
and fear.
Fear that what we need
Is not already here.

Where are the drums?
And where are our prophets?
Where are our wise elders?
Have they been led astray?
Do they pimp the wisdom of soul
For fame and ice?

It is time to forsake
What has come to pass.
Build anew
Build true.

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