In the depths of winter, P’Shaman was out of food. He hopped out to a farm in search of something good. He went into a barn and found a metal bin. It smelled like grain with something else mixed in. Not what he wanted, but it would have to do. The more he hesitated, the more his hunger grew. He climbed up the bin and saw the grain was wheat. He jumped down on the pile and began to eat. But the air was thick with dust – fungus from the grain. It made him hack and cough and entered in his brain. He knew he must escape, but the metal made him slip. The edge was far away; he could not get a grip. He knew that he must rise above his circumstance. He knew that he must get away if he would have a chance. He grew dizzy; he grew faint and felt he might pass out, But a vision of his mother caused him to come about. She told him that, when you are in your deepest despair, you must turn within and listen to the voice you find there. Now he heard the voice of two-legs, come to dump the bin. Two-legs tipped the contents out, but, when he looked within, he said, “Hey, there’s a squirrel,” and got his shotgun out. P’Shaman roused himself and ran, and two-legs gave a shout. P’Shaman was running when he heard a mighty blast; pellets whistled near his ear as they came rushing past. His safety lay straight ahead if he could reach the trail, but then he felt a painful blow to his eye and tail. His tail was blown away; his eye began to bleed. He screamed in agony but ran toward the trees. P’Shaman kept on running, leaving two-legs far behind. He stopped to see where he was, but he was partly blind. He needed rest; he needed help; he lay down on the ground. He felt the pain in his body; he felt the world spin around. Until Robin brought an acorn; Rabbi brought him seed. Brother Chip staunched his wounds, and then he ceased to bleed. So his story wasn’t over; he had much more to give. Sometimes others sought his guidance in how they should live. Some find him cranky; others don’t like his smell, but if you seek his advice, this is what he’ll tell. The sun is your friend; each tree is your guard. Let no dark hand quench the light of hope in your heart. Don’t let outside voices of fear find an echo in you. Heed no words of doubt in what you know to be true. Though he is a squirrel, I still gotta say, That he and I share certain things in particular ways. P’Shaman and I are both grumpy and grey; Though our wounds are very different, we are pretty much the same.

Atlas needs a break; he's holding up the world. He'd pass it on to someone else, if they'd only say the word. But no one wants to help; he bears it on his own. Sometimes the biggest burdens must be borne alone. Heracles comes to visit; he's been shoveling cow manure. He moves in for a hug, but Atlas isn't sure. But Atlas has a shoulder chip; he knows he needs assistance He's tired of the burden of, the weight of our existence. He's lonely and he's tired; his feet are on the heavens. He resents the planet's people who will not learn their lessons. When Atlas shrugs, a piece of continent breaks off. The mountains tremble, the oceans rise when Atlas coughs. Atlas says to Heracles, "I know you're really strong." "You could hold this easily; I don’t think that I’m wrong." Herakles agrees and steps right up and puts it on his shoulder. Atlas says, "I'll be right back. Thank you, boulder holder." Now Heracles is lonely; his feet are on the heavens. He resents the planet's people who will not learn their lessons. Heracles can see that he'll be stuck with this forever. He calls to Atlas, "This is nice; there's just one thing, however." "If I’m to stay here all alone, I'd like another hug." He dips and slips the planet from his shoulder with a shrug. Atlas is still lonely, his feet still on the heavens. He resents the planet's people who will not learn their lessons. Atlas is still living with the noise and waste of people. The next lesson that he tries to teach might prove to be more lethal.

My rear end is fat, and my car is super big; I use up gasoline like an industrial pig. Don’t try to impress me with your eco-friendly stance; I would eat up the Amazon, given half a chance. My house is so big you can get lost inside. My three-car garage is my joy and pride. And if I need more stuff, I can just go on-line. My credit card buys what I need ‘til expiration time. Chorus: Some people say that I’ve got affluenza; They don’t know the joy when my banker extends a Credit line so I can even shop ‘til I drop. There’s nothing wrong with buying; I just can’t stop. I like the feeling that I get when buying something new. On-line shopping and mall hopping are my favorite things to do. There’s nothing like the thrill of finding new stuff in the mail. I never seem to get enough of all the things for sale. I need to buy something when I start to feel afraid. My obsession with the new got started in the second grade. I like the power of purchasing the latest thing around. My consumption will go on until I’m six feet underground. Chorus The more I get the better I feel inside. The acquisition of my position is a point of pride. Don’t try to convince me that these are just sins. Don’t you know that the one with the most toys wins?

What does it mean if your path turns green When you leave the path you always walked on? Now what’ll you do if your music turns blue Though you thought that you knew how to rock on? We burned a lot of gas in the name of Jazz, Though we told the world to save our children. So what do we do if words won’t come true And we never knew the way of pilgrims?