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.
