Deprived

You walked down all the paths,
through mountains and
the grass,
but still don`t seem to know,
the human way to go.
1,2,3,4,5,
the sixt might be deprived.
Your reach out for the stars,
is always leaving scars,
in those you neatly shelve,
and in your very self.
Your skin, still smooth don`t show,
there are they in a row.
1,2,3,4,5,
the sixt may now arrive.
You`re old and odd,
what have you got?
Scars and hunger
and a pretty lunger,
whom counts your crease
until she`ll leave.
1,2,3,4,5,
the sixt has grabbed your drive.
The goddess female divine,
won’t tolerate your crime.
The cunning you may try,
untrodden will you die.
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