Stickin' it To Ya

Hello ... I'm a stick.. a branch... a twig. I fell off of a bush, or maybe it was a tree.

I hate toes. Toes are stealing my thunder.

You don't know what I'm talking about, do ya? Shit....

Ok, here's the deal ... As a stick, I have a legacy of creating history. I have been plucked from bushes and trees. I have been singled out among twigs and bones for the purpose of drawing lines in the sand. I'm a fuckin' stick.

Here's my beef with you people ... all you do with me and my stick brethren now is snap and burn. We're kindling to you people. If you wanna draw a line in the sand, you use your toe... there's no seriousness.. there's no commitment to a line or a plan drawn in the sand with a toe. C'mon, a toe?

There was a time when an entire future of a civilization was determined by a stick that was carefully chosen by it's heritage, growth, bend-ability and feel. A line in the sand was drawn to indicate growth, advancement of civilization, strength ...

Now? We sticks are overlooked ... how can anyone draw a line without a stick? I'm a metaphor now ... I'm an ideal. I'm an objective point view that can be used to draw an imaginary line.

As a stick, I'm a bit pissed off. I might be a stick, but I'm tangible ... anyone can wrap their hands around me and make a visible line to either be crossed or avoided ... Hell, a stick is real. You can draw a line with me and sign that line with me ...

A toe? A toe is always gonna be attached to your foot but any ol' toe can claim to draw that line ...

I'm open for initial carving ... feels good to an old stick like me... knowing that I'm part of something that lasts. Ya know, weather erases the lines that we sticks draw but we sticks always draw straight and true. Sticks and twigs ... we know what you're thinking ...

Put your shoes on ... toes are stupid.