As I sit on a shitpot,
Engulfed in a aura of thought,
Sweat dripping down my cheeks,
I think what a man seeks.
Is it money, is it trust,
Is it love, is it lust,
Or what is it that is must?
As the light through the window recedes,
I sit on a shitpot looking for what a man seeks.
I’m not satisfied he chants,
But he doesn’t even know what his heart wants
Working for a dollar, killing for a cent,
I wonder if he’s screwing up the present.
But always in the future he peeks,
Sitting on the shitpot I wonder what a man seeks.
He does anything for power
Spills blood for a shower.
He rapes, he kills,
He robs and still he chills.
With nature’s laws he tweaks
Sitting on the shitpot I look for what a man seeks.
He earns and earns,
And still for peace he yearns.
He people around him he shuns,
And still after their love he runs.
The question that baffled the Romans and Greeks
I sit on the shitpot and ponder what a man seeks.
Something is wrong, somewhere down the lane.
It’s his desires that are causing all the pain.
He doesn’t know he lingers on,
He doesn’t look back to see what is it that he won.
As the days turn into weeks,
I’m still sitting on the shitpot looking for what a man seeks.