There's a thin line between the actual & the possible, On how patriarchal we are, Or on what might be probable, Our truths & our falsehoods, Are defined by Corporate necessity, But when did our Earth become concrete? Giving our chocolate a cardboard energy, But we pray to find good views, As the situationists accuse, Yet we're drifting with no agenda, An affective phallus seeking clues, Mother Nature's chord progression, Explores our hidden feminist heart, To test the line between who we need to be, & who they say we are,