We are made of water
Measuring our years
By the volume of sweat and tears
Living to regret
Each litre of tears and sweat
Subject to the pull of tides
And driven by the cycle
Of drought and flood
We are walking bags of blood
With trace chemicals
And metals in solution
Bound by energy
And chains of information
We are what we imbibe
Whether cups of tea
Or pints of beer
Spirits or fine wine
We have a destiny
No more meaningful
Than a tin of meat in brine
We are made of water
No better than we ought to be