Fight the Box.
When you open up that present and it wasn’t what you wanted, but what you needed. You’ll have to feed it; it’s got heart, and it’s got soul.
No longer flying solo, millennium’s ain’t got nothing on you.
Eternal being, eternally seeing that you can’t see at all on your own.
Fight the box. Dumber than Hucks, floating down the river to wherever.
Wave after wave, waving at you not to go further than you’ve ever gone from shore.
Fight the box. Faith is a word, but it’s also the drop into the well.
Not knowing what the darkness is at the end of the vertical tunnel.
Gravity’s rules this time. The same gravity that brought down the Bombs Two,
How you drank the water you’d been working for outside in the yard all summer.