You don't have to be vulnerable

You don't have to be vulnerable
Just make yourself comfortable
Rub something on it
Endure the bruise away
You don't have to be honest
Just tell us what you think
We want to hear
You don't have to lie
To dissolve your crippling fear
Just tell us what you think
You think we want to hear

You don't have to believe nuffink
That's for the sick and the dead
You don't have to be intimate
It just gets icky
You don't have to communicate
Send an SMS instead

You don't have to try to create
That would be as if
to deny Plato
Himself
which would of course
be criminal
Dat dat daaa!
You don't have to play to be
That's for stunted immaturity
You don't have to care a fig
That's for the psychologists
The pneumatic dream makers
And mice ridden priests

You don't have to crave freedom
When there are so many choices
It's never too soon to be late
Don't they know who you are?
With vermillion golden voices
Mr, mrs, ms, and princess zee
You don't have to forage
For recants
At the bottom of the sludge
We'll deliver it for free!
What you have to do is thus
don't awake
Fail to leapppp
Miss the bus
Go back to sleep
Until the arms of fate
Have carted you
By the devil's horn
To the deep deep deep
Blue
Blue
Blue...
Blue blue blue
Deep deep deep
Mystical borne... 

circa 2019

https://martincooke.blogspot.com/2016/05/you-dont-have-to-love.html