Everywhere I look
Every street corner I walk
I see a dejected race
Like zombies devoid of feeling
A race enamored by glitz and fads
Scurrying haphazardly like cads
Their minds sullied with grime
Filled with none other than brine
And I weep, tears gush down like a waterfall
Blind they are to the greatness that could be unleashed
If only their thoughts wasn't rumored to be deceased
Laid to rest by the sodding vicar of a reverred clique
If only their will wasn't willed to be extinct
Heavily guarded inside a deserted precinct
A generation so great yet so little
A congregation so loud yet so silent
A flock so united yet so divided
Taunts and scoffs soar high like an eagle
Caring neither if their actions are legal
This race longs only for the spotlight
The stampede to the stage is horrendous
If only the platform could take all
Wouldn't it be better for them all?
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