Lemming One last minute is all I ask, Maybe a day, maybe a year. Maybe a life in which to bask, Maybe a finger to wipe a tear. Maybe a friend to love to the end, Maybe a lover to protect and to cover. A lemming has the worst of luck, It can be a real nice mindfuck. The lemmings live and die alone, For an end they strive. Would it help it to stay stoned? Might it keep it alive? How many cliffs must I scale, To save you from yourself? What happens if I should fail, What'd happen to your health? It's not important what it's born with, It's not what others choose to give, It's not if others choose to hate. Sometime in the end, Whether now or then, The lemming determines it's own fate. Born to die? Aren't we all? SAUCE00'lemmings' counterpoint blade productions 19950303OP