Saturday, 24 January 2015

They say: Don't be a pessimist,
But the whole damn world's a rotten mess.
And I find no comfort in a lie,
When it changes not the end: We die.

They sell opinion with fact facades,
Like Prada bags and Magic cards.
The 'real deal' they proclaim with smiles,
While fangs betray their cunning wiles.

"You're different: you're wrong, you illiterate pig!
"Can't you see I'm right? Just check out my sig!
"I've been here years; I'm a veteran, son.
"So listen to me: this argument's won."

Survival does not equal smarts,
True wisdom is a product of more than its parts.
They can stand by tradition and wear timelines on their sleeves,
Slip on rose-tinted glasses with the changing of the leaves.

Doesn't matter: I don't buy it; the past is dirt and dust,
Living life looking backwards and venerating rust,
Holding fast to what is better buried six miles deep.

Turn around! Death is knocking: your life is going cheap.


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