There's a rock rolling down the stream, slowly.
It never was dirt but was magma.
It is prejudiced against, naturally.
Slowly it's becoming sand but the river continues without it.
And there are many rocks, next to it,
But they’re at different stages in their pathetic existence,
To us they’re dead.
One day, though solid they may be,
They will become universally understood,
Becoming beautiful answers to a common question:
Is there life on another planet?
And through the development of love and compassion,
They won’t be discovered for another million years,
The intelligence of rocks will have become loved, admired.
Mystically, the rocks grew upset because they were handicapped,
And were alive.
And once the rocks have been spoken of in this new light,
The English language will have changed,
To include them in a non-demeaning term,
Like the "Solids,"
A "rock" has many derogatory meanings, obviously.
A million years later, an ancient song was playing called "Rock and roll"
And soon the whole genre was listened to by the sentient rocks;
Because they felt oppressed, trodden over,
And were treated with the hopelessness as ants are to a crazed child:
Mystically, then, "Rock and Roll" was influenced heavily by Rachmaninoff.
For the Tribe of rocks, he was non-intimidating, and humble.
And he whispered into their ear or so they thought they heard:
Our subconscious mind never developed to its immortal soul.
For the Tribe of rocks, Led Zeppelin was their favorite group,
They're God-like and immortal,
In their music lied a secret code.
The Tribe of rocks chose "Rock and Roll" as their main language,
Then a new mystic after them was yet 'live and his name is Daniel.
And he felt like a rock and had a soul...
