Dig down below the dust that coats this road
Which stretches to a flat eternal point
Ignore the pilgrim passing with his load
Ignore the way his bleeding feet anoint
This dusty road which seems to have no end
Pay no attention to his solemn stare
And if he stops to help you, just pretend
You’re resting for a moment and that there
Is really not a need for him to wait
Encourage him to journey on ahead
His perfect circumspection is oblate
Because he only walks toward the dead
Dig down below the dust and you will find
A vein of gold which hasn’t yet been mined