As Peoples lose the feel they've known,

And then they think the big they’ve grown

And then the years of gains they’ve crossed

And those, they’ve feared, these pains they’ve lost.

It’s like a broken prism seen

Six thousand years of copied preen

These haunted eyes and echoed ears

And those we thought were friends and peers.

The times don’t grow, and better, yet

Until the knowledge sews to be.

Our minds, a kid, we have no zeal

Where science takes us somewhere, sea,

Where social skills becomes our growth.

We’ll know our anthropology.