The Dunce

Well aware that the spurts stem slightly
From left and right fights nightly pull
To which extreme the false seems the prophet
But truth leaves him less than full

Designed to pull more than inward
Crippled by love and the girl
He breathes but cannot grab ahold of
That which may give him the world

And fall with the leaves all around you
The beauty lies under the coals
You've kept up the weight on your back
And the heat that you've tended
Is starting to burn at your soles
If for once the dunce in the class
Could learn to be more of less
Then air could be shared by more than one
This sound is around when walls are coming down