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?

Hopeless romantic,

Feeling pedantic,

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