Putting on my pants, I realized just how depended on others I am.
Who was responsible for the material my pants were made from?
Who cut up the pattern of the pants that my legs I did jam?
Who was the seamstress , where are those lovely folks from?
Wonder who was the packer who folded and wrapped those stylish pants?
Was it forklifted and boxed and ready to ship?
How many supervisors, managed and danced and went of rants?
How about the broker and lawyer and all that legal stuff on the slip?
Yet I feel I need no one , well that a joke.
I like to have the talent to create out of air,
there was so many task,many hands that carried this yoke.
They provided me these pants, to spare you from seeing me bare.
No one can live on this earth alone.
Even today’s hermit isn’t capable of providing everything
less he wears pants from plants,dead animals or stone.
and that still came from the Almighty God our King!