Down with the roaches
Now I have all these approaches
Lowly on a colt
Lightning in the bolt, I am full of the cult
I sipped it for years—
Are we sick with wondering
Or are we just wandering?
The rules have changed
The terrain has shifted
No longer does man choose love or
Choose good or choose anything anymore?
Lovers of self, lovers up on the shelf,
Saving mercy for a rainy day,
A storm to come,
Our love is on numb,
This pain is growing
The gadgets are losing their grip
Its an endless maze of what is next—
Bigger, faster but worse and worse it
Gets—cycles of regret, adulthood is
An ever evolving force–
Its remorse, but really it is not
Its regret but really its apathy
Its pleasure, its endless pleasure
But to what measure? To what end?
To where now can we comprehend?
Its evil all around, its a lie to believe anything else
Its still a choice, I choose heaven, not Hell